


Nico and Jason's Zombie Apocalypse Playlist

by always_a_birthday_girl



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Boys Kissing, Danger, Jason punched a zombie in the face, M/M, Road Trips, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse, soundtrack to the end of the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_a_birthday_girl/pseuds/always_a_birthday_girl
Summary: Jason woke up, amnesiac, in a telephone booth--and his day just got worse from there.





	1. It's The End Of The World (as we know it)

“Wake up.”

Jason heard the sound, but distantly, in the half-hearing way of people still mostly asleep. He felt free to ignore it. 

There was a burst of unpleasant static in his ear, and then the words again: “Wake up, numbskull. You wanna be mook bait?”

Jason didn’t know the voice. It was low and urgent, but crackly, like someone talking over a mobile telephone. It was a pain in the ass, but he dragged himself into full consciousness, figuring it was probably close to time to get up anyway.

His eyelids were sticky shut and crusted over when he raised his hands to rub them, and while he was meandering his way into wakefulness, the voice came again.  
“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty, this isn't the freakin' palace! You’re seriously in trouble.”

There was this weird noise undercutting the message; a wall-of-sound type noise that was like the murmur of a crowd, but a crowd all making noises like hungry animals. Jason wrinkled his nose and opened his eyes for real.

He nearly had a heart attack.

“WHATTHECRAP?!”

More static. Then: “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Jason wasn’t too concerned with the opinion of the voice on the other end of his walkie. He was staring at his sneakers, which were resting comfortably on the glass door of an old-fashioned telephone booth. The high tops were the only thing keeping the door closed, and the door was the only thing between him and a crowd of slavering, rotting, bug-eyed monsters.

What Leo would call “zombies”.

Jason frantically scrambled through the last events he could remember; evacuating the city, sneaking away from his foster home’s bus with his best friend, Leo, and girlfriend, Piper. Sharing a stolen pack of cigarettes behind a BMW. Running across one of them; a dead one. Lots of running. 

He guessed he must have come back into Los Angeles somehow, and also that he must have hit his head, because he didn’t remember much past the running. He raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth. 

“Who are you?”

Pause.

Guy on the other end: “Is that really important right now? You’re about to be dead.”

Jason knew he was in deep trouble, way-over-his-head trouble, and these were possibly the last minutes of his short, sad life. That didn’t stop him from snarkily shooting back, “Thanks for the heads' up. I totally didn't notice.”

It seemed like a really long time before he got a response. So long, that he started to think the other guy had decided to move along and forget about the idiot whose channel he’d jacked. 

Then: “How’d you get in there? Decided to take a nap in a flesheater’s take-out container?”

Jason grimaced. “I don’t remember.”

“You sick?”

“Depends.” 

“On what?”

“Who you ask--me, or my psychiatrist.” Jason had seen a few of the creatures up close before; one in a hospital bed, a few more on the road out of the city. Never this many. Never this close. It felt like he’d abruptly been dropped from the safe, relative normality of the United States into a war zone.

But the U.S. was the war zone. 

“Jesus. Last thing we need’s another prick with a sense of humor,” the guy on the other end of the walkie said. “Look, you seem to need some help.”

“Naw,” Jason mumbled. “I’m good where I am. Think I’ll catch a few more Zs.”

His right leg, starting to cramp, wobbled and slipped a few inches down the glass. A hand wormed its way in. 

Rats. Ratsratsrats. Jason pressed against the door, but the angle his legs were at didn’t allow him much leverage. The gap was getting wider--soon more hands would come in--and mouths--

“When you hear the boom, run,” his walkie burst out. “Go left--get to that building with the red fire escape. See the escape?”

Jason threw his gaze left, heart thudding. “I see it.”

BOOM.

Oh. This was happening now. A few of the creatures turned from Jason, towards the source of the noise; but not enough. Certainly not the ones worming their way into the booth. 

BOOM.

This time, the noise was accompanied by a small, slight figure in black; he leaped down from a nearby building and stood next to a flaming car, waving both his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs. 

Jason dropped his feet, grabbed the booth door, and yanked it shut with all of his strength. Something heavy dropped onto his foot--when he looked down, he saw he’d severed the soft, decomposing hand of the thing trying to get it. 

The swarm of creatures started towards the figure, and Jason burst out of the booth and ran.


	2. Walk On The Wild Side

It was all over in a few seconds, which was good. Jason’s pounding heart couldn’t take more than that. He tore across the street, praying that he wouldn’t trip on any of the debris strewn around, his gaze fixed on the bright red fire escape ahead of him. 

He crashed into a stray dead one; biting back a terrified yelp, he shoved it away, fingers sinking into its rotted flesh. The feeling stayed with him even as he pelted away from it. He slammed into the fire escape and swung his body up, feet hitting the iron stairs with a series of clangs. He clambered all the way to the top, scrabbled onto the roof, threw himself over the edge and rolled across the concrete surface. His breath was ragged, and it hurt to breathe.

Jason had been a football player once, but that was years ago--years before any of this started. After his mother, Beryl, died, he’d gone into a foster home and stopped caring about sports. Aside from a few pick-up games with Piper and whoever else wanted to join, he hadn’t stayed active. It was no wonder he was having trouble now. 

He rolled to his feet, his heart refusing to slow down. Adrenaline was barreling through his body, keeping him buzzed. His mind knew he was safe, but his body was reluctant to believe it. 

A yell attracted his attention, and he ran to the opposite side of the roof, peering down into the alley below. At first, all he saw was a crowd of mooks. Then he saw the figure surrounded by them, lashing out desperately, partly shielded by a Dumpster but not for long. 

Jason whipped his head around, looking for something--anything--that might help. A rope, or a ladder, or anything anything anything. His panicked mind started to move faster than it was able, tripping over itself and running loops of the same useless thoughts. It was purely coincidence that his gaze landed on the maintenance shed on the top of the roof. 

He yanked at the door, which was held shut with a padlock. 

“You’ve got to be freakin' kidding me!” 

Frustrated, Jason backed up, shrinking his head into his chest for protection, and charged the door, his only thought that he had to get through.

BAM.

The door actually bucked, but Jason didn’t have time to marvel at his own accomplishment--or baby his screaming shoulder. He kicked it off its hinges and grabbed the first thing he saw inside: a garden hose. 

He dragged the hose to the edge of the roof. The figure was still holding their own, more or less, the glint of a silver knife in their hand. Jason tossed one end of the hose down, lowering it like a rope. He twisted the other end around the chimney pipe.

“Hey!” he called. “Grab this!”

The figure looked up--Jason caught a glimpse of a pale face--but the two-second distraction was enough for one of the undead to get under the person’s guard--without thinking, hose still in hand, Jason leapt off the roof.

It was only three stories, but it felt like twice that. Jason’s sneakers drove into the mook’s skull, crushing it like wet clay, and the hose pulled taught. He heard the chimney strain. 

“Idiot!” The trapped figure, a boy around Jason’s age, swore at him. “I didn’t rescue your ass so that you could plunge right back into danger! Do you even know what the heck you’re doing?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Climb up--I’ll anchor you.”

The boy looked like he might grumble more, but they didn’t have that kind of time. He jumped up, grabbing the hose, and used Jason’s knees as a brace until he was standing on the wall. As soon as he was situated, Jason started to climb, as well. 

It was the most terrifying rock climbing experience ever. The way up was a lot longer than down, and every second Jason was afraid he’d lose his grip and tumble into the crowd of dead bodies below. When he finally hauled himself back onto the roof, he thought he might die of relief.

The boy was already moving, heading for a trap door Jason had missed in his earlier search. He glanced over his shoulder impatiently. “Are you coming?”

Jason scrambled to his feet and followed. 

The door opened to a long, dark stairwell. Jason plodded down it without a second’s thought, and his new companion followed, closing the trap behind them and submerging them in total darkness. There was a click, and then the beam of a flashlight hit Jason’s eyes. He shielded them. 

“Um, thanks for saving me,” he said. 

The boy brushed past him, leading the way down. “I shouldn’t have,” he said curtly.

Okay. Ouch. 

“Well, I saved you too, so it paid off,” Jason said.

“I wouldn’t have needed saving if it wasn’t for you.” The boy stopped walking, swinging the flashlight around so that it was in Jason’s face again. He squinted. “I don’t need any dead weight, okay? Because dead weight translates to just dead, and it won’t be just your ass on the line. You’ll take the rest of us with you.”

“The rest?”

In answer, the boy opened a door at the base of the stairs, leading into an unlit office building. Grayish light leaked in from the windows on the sunrise side. A girl and two boys were huddled around one of the desks; the girl raised a gun when she saw Jason, and he pulled back sharply.

“It’s cool,” the boy Jason was with said quickly. “He’s too dumb to be dangerous.”

One of the boys snickered. Jason would have been offended, but he didn’t have a leg to stand on at the moment--today, he had been dumb. Set new records in it, really.

“I found him napping in a telephone booth,” the boy went on. “Just to give you a complete picture.” He glanced back at Jason. “She won’t shoot unless you give her a reason.”

Jason had no intention of giving her a reason. The girl was younger than him, maybe thirteen or fourteen, with curly hair and round cheeks--but she still looked dangerous. Something about her eyes. 

“I’m Nico,” the boy said, pointing at himself. “That’s my sister, Hazel. The guy laughing at your stupidity is Will Solace, and the one hiding behind a thirteen-year-old-girl is Frank.” 

“I’m Jason,” Jason said. “Did you guys get lost, too?”

Hazel looked puzzled. “Lost?”

“Yeah, I got separated from my evac party,” Jason said. “We were heading out of the city--you know, to the safe zone. I must have gotten a little turned around along the way.”

All four teenagers stared at him as if they couldn’t quite believe what they were hearing. Nico was the first to look away, staring at his shoes. 

Will, who was blue-eyed and blond like Jason, but more in a Hippie Surfer way, said, “There’s no safe zone. What are you talking about?”

“The evacuations stopped months ago,” Hazel added. “There was no point.”

Months? 

“I was with them yesterday,” Jason said, puzzled. “A great line of busses, heading out of the city--”

“Nothing’s come out of the city for a long time,” Nico said. “The safe zone was just a fantasy--most people died before they broke the border. The highway’s a miles-long graveyard by now, no traffic could get through even if there were people left to try. Where have you been?”

Jason’s mouth went dry. His first thought was of Piper; his next of Leo. He clenched the walkie in his hand, amazed he hadn’t lost it in the commotion earlier. 

“I guess . . . in a telephone booth . . .” he said, too stunned to be genuinely snarky. “What month is it?”

Nico snorted. “Like we know something like that. Haven’t you been listening? The world’s gone to shit. We don’t have a calendar kicking around.”

"I have to get back to my friends," Jason said, although he didn't see how that was possible. 

"Dude, even if they're still alive, they aren't going to be with the buses," Will said. "Sorry," he added, more as an afterthought. His shaggy hair was tied back with a ratty bandanna, but he still shook it out of his face every few minutes. He looked younger than Jason, maybe fourteen, while Frank--a big guy with a Taylor Swift t-shirt and a round face--looked older, closer to sixteen. 

Jason looked to Nico. "So . . . what are you guys doing here, if you aren't lost?"

Nico extended his hand to Hazel, and she handed over her gun. He tucked it in his belt, next to his walkie, and started further into the room, navigating around shadowy towers of boxes.

"Surviving," he tossed over his shoulder, as an afterthought. 

Will gave Jason a semi-sympathetic look before ducking after Nico; Hazel patted Jason's arm before doing the same. Only Frank hovered back for a few seconds.

"Nico didn't say so, but you're welcome to come with us," he said. He ducked his head nervously, then followed the others.

Jason thought about it for a moment. What else was he going to do? 

Hoping he wasn't making a mistake, he went after Nico and his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lou Reed


	3. My Life

Nico and the others were camped out on the office's second floor.

"The doors were locked when we got here, so we had to smash one of the ground floor windows," Hazel explained. "Now there's a big hole for mooks to wander into, so we're here. They don't climb stairs, much."

"No fine motor skills, and limited gross motor skills," Will said, from where he was sitting at one of the desks. Most of the desks had been pushed to the sides, stacked to cover the windows and block the doors, but a couple were arranged in a circle around the center of the room. The one Will was at had stacks of paper and a whirlwind of Post-it notes, plus a freestanding dry erase board next to it.

He leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. "I'd say they're like animals, but they're below that, even, intelligence-wise. Their behavior patterns more closely match flies or locusts than any mammals."

"Will was studying to be a doctor," Hazel whispered to Jason. "His whole family were doctors."

"He thinks he knows everything because he read a couple books," Nico added, rummaging in another of the desks. His dark hair fell over his face as he bent down. His shoulders were tense; Jason found his eyes tracing their lines and forced himself to look away. "But really--he's just a pretentious dork."

"Better than a psychopathic loser," Will retorted, chucking his pen at Nico. He missed, and Nico snickered.

In the middle of the room was a pile of cushions, most of them torn from the chairs, with a few mismatched exceptions. Hazel sat there, beckoning for Jason to do the same. Frank leaned on one of the desks, looking like he didn't know what to do with himself. Jason couldn't help but notice something else piled by the desks: weapons. In addition to Nico's gun, the kids had three knives, a crossbow, and a BB gun.

He wondered how long they'd been here.

"There has to be a safe zone somewhere," he said aloud.

"You're still stuck on that?" Nico said, sticking his head up from the desk and rolling his eyes. "Nowhere's safe, moron. It's a simple concept to grasp. Nowhere. Is. Safe."

"But--the adults--"

Hazel and Frank laughed at the same time, exchanging a bitter look. The expression didn't suit Frank's face at all.

"Let's just say, adults are part of the problem," Hazel said. "It's been a long couple of months, Jason. You're lucky to have missed it."

"Something up with your shoulder?" Will asked, diverting the conversation.

Jason had all but gotten used to the dull ache, but he let Will look at it anyway, just in case.

"You're bruising already," Will noted. "What the heck did you do?"

"Busted a door down to get to a fire hose," Jason said, gratified by the impressed flicker in Will's eyes. At least someone appreciated his efforts to save Nico's butt. "It doesn't hurt that badly."

"You don't get a sticker for being a brave boy," Will informed him, crushing his short-lived dream of being recognized for his heroics. "It's just a bump, you're going to be fine. I'd get you an ice pack, but we lost power yesterday. And while Nico was supposed to be fixing the grid like he said he would--"

"I got distracted!" Nico yelled out, still digging in the desk for . . . something.

"--yeah, well, we still don't have power, Maverick," Will retorted. "And half our food is frozen, so do something about that, why don't you."

"As long as we don't open the fridge, we have at least another two days," Nico declared. "I'll go back out tonight, when the dead have settled down."

"When they're more active, you mean?" Will lowered Jason's shirt, clapping him on the shoulder--right on the bruise. Jason winced. "That's a suicidal idea, Neeks."

"I'll go with him," Jason offered.

"You haven't been dumb enough for one day?" Nico asked, straightening up. There was a cold pack in his hand, like he'd known Jason would need it before Will said a word.

"I just don't see why you get to have the monopoly on stupid, life-threatening decisions," Jason retorted. Nico threw the pack at him, and he caught it, feeling the plastic instantly cool from the trauma. He slipped it under his shirt, peeling the tabs back to tape it to his shoulder. "I'm here, I'm willing, I don't see the problem."

"I just met you. I don't trust you. And I'm fine on my own," Nico listed.

"Trust? Dude, what am I going to do, shove you into a horde?" Jason asked. "You saved my life. No need to go all _Survivor_ on me."

"Or maybe that's exactly what we should do," Hazel broke in. The rest of them just stared at her. "We should form an alliance," she added.

Nico appeared to be trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "Okay, sis," he said slowly. "Why don't you and the new guy hammer that out while Will and I fix the grid?"

"No," Jason and Will chorused. Jason winced, gesturing for the other boy to go first, but Will insisted on passing.

"Look, I just got here," Jason said, after the awkward, nonverbal exchange. "And I'm not going to lie, I think you guys are a little gung-ho with the prepper stuff. But even I think it's too risky to send your only doctor out when there are other choices."

"I could go," Frank volunteered, but Jason was pretty sure the others didn't hear him. Or maybe they were just used to ignoring him.

"That's basically what I was going to say," Will said. "With the added point that, if you really don't trust Jason, you shouldn't leave him alone with your sister."

Nico scowled. He seemed like an okay guy, but for whatever reason, Jason got the sense that Nico disliked him.

"Fine," the kid relented. He jerked his finger at Jason, motioning him into a glass-walled office that stood along the far wall, probably belonging to the big company exec or manager.

Jason went in without complaining, although it was a little disconcerting to have Nico shut the door behind him. The room was too quiet.

"Alright, here's the thing," Nico said, without beating around the bush. "I don't know how to fix the power grid. I'm BS-ing my face off, here. Don't look out there," he instructed, noticing Jason glance out the glass, "they can't hear us, and they won't care what we're saying as long as it doesn't look like we're talking about them." He moved to the exec's desk, hopping up onto it and kicking his boots against the wooden side.

"You look like you're still holding on to the notion that the world's a safe, rosy place, and there's going to be a happy ending out of all this," Nico went on. "That's idiotic. It's nuclear-level idiotic and it's going to get you killed. Do you want to be killed?"

"Obviously not."

Had something happened to make Nico this hardcore, or was he just one of those weirdos who were born that way? Jason couldn't believe that absolutely everywhere was gone. There had to still be the System; there was always the System. And if he could find that, then he could find Leo and Piper.

"Cool. I don't want to be killed, either," Nico said, and tilted his head up to fix his dark, dark eyes on Jason. "So. Do you know how to fix a power--"

"Don't even finish that question, of course I frickin' don't," Jason said. "That's--" _an adult's job_ , he wanted to finish, and restrained himself. "So we need another solution, simple as that."

"Simple as that," Nico echoed, and shook his head. He didn't smile, but his scowl became a little less scowl-y, and Jason had the feeling it amounted to the same thing in Nico's book. A trace of pride flared in his chest, fluttering through his body like a million butterflies.

"That's right, Jason. We need another solution." Nico paused. "Honestly, I thought maybe you were a utility worker--in that orange shirt, hanging out in a telephone booth . . . that's why I called out to you."

"You would have left me there if you'd known I wasn't?" Jason asked, only half teasing. With his luck, he'd just landed himself in a regular _Lord of the Flies_ situation.

"I don't know," Nico admitted. "Look, I'm being honest with you, okay? Not because I want to, but because I need someone on my side. Hazel's my sister, Will's great but he and I are never on the same page, and God knows Frank's good for nothing . . ." he gritted his teeth. "I'm aware that I sound like a jerk. I'm also aware that my family is out there, counting on me to be some kind of damn hero, which I'm not."

"If you're asking for help, just ask for help," Jason said, torn between amusement and exasperation. He angled his body away from Nico, folding his arms. He didn't know what he'd do if Nico actually asked. He was more than a little afraid he'd say yes.

"I'm not asking for help," Nico snapped. "I don't need help."

"I thought you needed someone on your side."

"Dammit, Jason."

Nico sounded frustrated. Jason turned back to him.

"Alright, you have three options, right?" he asked, more or less rhetorically. "First, you stay here and fix the power grid. Second, you stay here and do nothing. Third, you move on to somewhere new."

"We can't not have power," Nico said at once. "The second option isn't an option at all."

"You could live without power," Jason argued. "Sure, the food loss would be bad, but spring is coming . . . well, I guess spring is already here, if I've been out for a couple months." He still couldn't quite wrap his head around that. "Stuff's growing. Plus, I don't think anyone would mind if you raid their pantries."

"You don't understand," Nico snapped, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "You don't--ugh, let me just show you." He slid off the desk, throwing open the door. Will and Frank were playing cards, while Hazel was busily scribbling on a piece of paper.

"We're going to the break room," Nico announced. The other three murmured their acknowledgments, each engrossed in what they were doing, and Nico led Jason to the stairwell.

They went up one floor, Nico guiding Jason into an enormous cafeteria. The entire floor was devoted to the space. A counter wound along one wall, separating a stainless steel kitchen area from a dining area that looked more like a restaurant than a lunch room. The left wall was entirely windows. Nico walked over to them, Jason on his heels.

They had a clear view of the city from this vantage point. Jason could see over the tops of buildings, but also down into the street below. A handful of undead loitered in the road, aimlessly walking in circles or listing side to side. There were cars crashed into each other, street lamps, and the sides of buildings. Most of the ground-level windows were shattered. A few bodies lay eerily among the broken glass, raising a rotted hand every now and again in a parody of movement.

"You wanted to know about the adults?" Nico asked, his voice low, husky. It sent a shiver down Jason's spine. "The adults all left, a long time ago. They smashed store fronts and held their neighbors at gun point--the ones who cared took their families and left, and everyone else . . . everything was raided. Everything was stolen. You could try to hide inside, lock your doors, but once the grown-ups realized that no one was leaving this place . . . it didn't matter."

Jason laid his hand on the glass, needing something to steady himself. Seeing the desecration brought Nico's point home the way the his words couldn't. Looking at this, Jason understood why the boy believed there was nothing left.

"My mother locked me in a closet, that's how I survived," Nico told him. "Will came to find me, days later. My sister, Hazel? I don't even like thinking about what happened to her." His words grew thin and tight. "There are no pantries left to raid. And there's nowhere left to run. At least we're alone, here. We have to stay, and we have to fix the grid. Got it?"

"I get it," Jason said. "But that doesn't change the fact that none of us know how." He paused. "My friend Leo would. He loves that kind of thing--he can fix anything."

"He's not here," Nico said. "That doesn't help us."

"I know. Sorry." Jason leaned on the glass. It was cool; not as cold as the pack on his shoulder, but cooler than room temperature. It felt nice. He was pretty sure he had a sunburn from his nap in the booth. "It's none of my business, but why haven't you told the others you can't fix the grid?"

"You're right. That is none of your business," Nico said shortly. He turned away from the window, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jason. "Listen, if you want to take off--look for your friends--that's fine. Don't feel like you have to stay with us."

"Yeah, but I owe you one," Jason said, and pivoted. He didn't like not facing Nico. "I'd at least like to square that before I go."

"Unless you have a city manual tucked in your back pocket, I don't see how that'll help." Seeing that he wasn't checking out the view any longer, Nico led him back across the cafeteria, giving the refrigerator door a wide berth.

"You're thinking big picture," Jason said, striding after him. "Powering the building, and the others on the block, right? But you don't need that much power. You just need to keep the fridge going, right?"

"Right," Nico said cautiously, opening the door to the stairwell. "Your point?"

"My point is," Jason said, easing through the gap between Nico's skinny body and the edge of the doorframe, "you have other options."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy Joel
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Under Pressure

"You don't think I didn't think of this already?" Nico asked, staring down at the generator in the alley behind the office building. They were back on the roof--it was getting dark, but Jason didn't like to waste time when he had an idea. "It's broken, or else it would have kicked in once we lost power."

Jason found the maintenance ladder and swung down onto it, starting into the alley.

"Are you nuts? You aren't even armed--" Nico began, but Jason was already making his descent. 

"It's clear," he called up to Nico. "You just keep watch. Shoot anything that comes by me--but don't shoot me, okay?"

"Like I'd do that." Nico paused. "On accident."

"Yup. That's not worrying."   
Jason dropped onto the top of the generator. He vaguely remembered learning the basics of how commercial generators worked in shop class--admittedly, he'd been flirting with Piper for most of the class, and this was an industrial unit, not a home one--but it had to sort of be the same, right? He crawled across the roof and jumped to the ground, wincing as he mistimed his drop and roll. His knee cracked, but he was still able to stand, so it must be fine.

He walked around the side of the big, metal box, glancing up to make sure Nico was still there. He raised his hand in a wave, and Nico returned the gesture, sort of. Well, he gave Jason the finger.

Jason found the maintenance panel easily, if only because it was clearly labeled in red capital letters. It was also screwed shut. 

"Do you have a screwdriver?" he whisper-shouted up to Nico, not sure if the guy could hear him but not brave enough to speak louder. In reply, Nico tossed something down.

It wasn't a screwdriver, but a knife, and it almost took Jason's foot off. He swore under his breath, swiped the knife up, and started in on the screws. It was slow going, and almost completely dark by the time he was done. While the sky was still a medium, inky blue, the alley was shadowed from the remaining light. When he swung open the access panel, all he could make out were rows of uniform switches.

A muffled _thump_ scared the shit out of him--he jerked the knife up, ready to fight a mook if that's what it came down to, and then Nico hopped down from the top of the generator, flashlight in hand.

"You were never a Boy Scout, were you?" Nico asked.

Jason didn't see what that had to do with anything.

"Just shine it over here," he said, annoyed. "I can't read the labels."

"As you wish, your Highness." Nico shone the light under Jason's arm, being too short to arc it over his shoulder. Jason was dying to comment, but Nico would probably club him with the hand gun or something, so he didn't. Nico's chest brushed Jason's side, sending a trail of goosebumps down Jason's back and arms.

Jason resisted the urge to shiver and pointed to a switch with an ON/OFF label above it. The switch was clearly pointing to OFF. "Dumbass theory--there's your problem."

"Is it really that simple?" Nico muttered.

Jason didn't know, but it was worth a shot. He flipped the switch to the ON position and--

Nothing happened.

Nico cursed, his arm grazing Jason's side as he brought his free hand up for a Picard-worthy facepalm.

Jason scanned the rest of the panel, but it was mostly nonsense to him until he reached a meter that said FUEL GAGE.

"Nico," he said, nudging the other boy out of his disgust. "Look. It's out of fuel."

"Oh, is that all?" Nico asked sarcastically, and craned his neck to look. "Well, I'll just run down to the Home Depot and get some, easy peasy."

"Don't be a little shit."

"It's the end of the world, I'll be as shitty as I like."

"I feel like you were like this before, though."

"You don't know anything about how I was before," Nico snapped, which Jason thought was taking their banter a little too personally.

"You're right," he said, shutting the access panel. "But that doesn't frickin' matter. What does this thing run on? If we can get fuel, then maybe it will work. And that is easy peasy."

Nico pointed his flashlight at the name printed on the side of the generator. "Generex Diesel Generator," he read aloud. "That answers that question. Where the hell are we going to get diesel? And how much do we even need?"

Jason pried the panel back open, motioning for Nico to shine the light back his way. "The gauge goes up to 4,000 gallons," he reported. 

"Holy shit. Where the heck do we find that much . . ." Nico trailed off. "It's impossible. We can't." He threw up his hands, flashlight beam dancing up into the sky. 

"It's not impossible," Jason said. "Semis run on diesel--three or four of them with full tanks should be enough to get this thing running again."

"And we're just going to find four semi trucks in the next day and a half?" Nico demanded. "I can't even drive a car, let alone a big rig. I definitely have no idea how we'd get fuel from a truck and into the generator, if that's even how it works. And this is all assuming we aren't caught and eaten while we're trying this, and that four trucks would be enough fuel."

"Do you have a better idea?" Jason asked. 

Nico ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Fixing the grid doesn't seem so far-fetched, now."

"Nah, there's just the slight chance of you electrocuting yourself," Jason snarked.

"Better than being blown up," Nico countered.

"You can always just let go of the idea of having power."

"That's not going to happen!" Nico exclaimed, too loudly. There was a rustling noise at the end of the alley.

"Okay, let's go," Jason said quickly. "We can talk about this somewhere safer."

He and Nico climbed back up the generator, then up to the roof. They made their way back to the second floor in silence, but just as they were about to go in, Nico stopped.

Jason hovered on the stairs, waiting.

"We have to find a way," Nico said. His face was blurry in the half-darkness, but Jason was sure it was troubled. He didn't know why it was so important to the guy, but he felt for him, in that instant. Nico was obviously trying hard to keep up appearances for his family--it must have been difficult to wear that mask all the time. "There's no other choice."

"Then there's no other choice," Jason said, reaching around Nico to grab the door handle. His forearm brushed Nico's shoulder, he was so close. For a minute, Nico was caged between Jason's arm and the door.

It stirred up feelings Jason didn't want to face, so he quickly said, "We'll do it, Neeks. I don't know how, but we will."

"Don't call me Neeks," Nico grumbled, but he let Jason open the door for him. Jason was too happy to let Nico put a couple yards between them. 

He hoped he'd be able to live up to his confident words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Queeeeeeeeeeeen


	5. Wild World

Jason didn't sleep well. The other kids all slept in a dog pile on the floor, limbs and blankets and makeshift pillows everywhere, but Jason wasn't one of the group and had no desire to be. He spent the first few hours staring at what he could make out of Nico's face in the speckled moonlight. Asleep, Nico looked no less guarded than when he was awake, one arm thrown protectively over his sister's side, his gun by his head. 

Jason lay down after a while, but the floor was hard and he only dozed. Once, he thought Will was awake and looking at him, but by the time he blinked his eyes into proper focus, Will's were closed. Eventually, Jason gave up his catnaps and snuck out of the room and back up to the cafeteria.

The second he was alone, he sighed in relief. He hadn't realized how stressed he was, sleeping among strangers. He'd done it in the group home all the time, but that had been different--there had been supervisors. He'd had Piper. He'd had a _bed_. Oh, and there hadn't been living dead walking the city. 

He sat by the windows for a long time, back against the perpendicular wall, thinking about Leo and Piper. Thinking about what might have happened to them in the two months he was gone.

He had disorienting memories of running, and chaos, and Leo's voice close to his ear--but none of the scraps came together in a way that made sense. He even thought he remembered his sister, Thalia, grabbing his hand and dragging him from a horde of zombies, but surely that part was a dream. He hadn't seen Thalia in years. 

He rested his forehead on the glass, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments. When he opened them again, sun was streaming through the windows, and Nico was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, munching on fruit leather. He held a package out to Jason.

"Mornin', sunshine."

"You're chipper," Jason observed, stretching his stiff limbs and accepting the food. The last meal he remembered having was on the evac bus; a tuna fish sandwich and chips. He must have eaten between then and now, or else he would have starved to death, but he didn't recall it. "Didn't peg you for a morning person."

"I'm not," Nico said. "I was being sarcastic. And you look like shit."

"Back at you," Jason said, tearing open the package of fruit leather. 

While he ate, he stole glances at Nico. It was safe to say the boy looked rough. He was skeletally thin, his face gaunt, his thick, messy hair the only part of him with any life. His black clothes were faded and ragged around the edges, like he'd been wearing them a while, and his boots were spattered with something dark and crusty--Jason hoped it wasn't blood, but knew better than to think otherwise.

But Nico's expression was what got him. The kid held his face like a marble statue--too composed, his scowl too textbook. His features were rigid, like he was hiding something. And his eyes were nothing short of haunting. 

Jason remembered Nico's story from yesterday, the sharp edge to the guy's quiet voice. He was sure Nico had only given him part of the story, that something worse than being locked in a closet had happened. He knew when kids were omitting stuff--it happened in the group home a lot, especially with the little ones. Leo had been one of those kids, when Jason first met him, and then--after they'd become friends--Jason had learned it was because Leo's babysitter had burned him. Literally.

Nico had a reason for being guarded, Jason was sure of it. He was equally sure he wanted to know what it was; something about Nico confiding in him about the grid solely because he had no one else. 

"Listen," he said now, knowing the best way to help was dealing with the situation at hand first, "while I was busy not sleeping last night, I remembered something about the highway."

Nico propped his chin on his hands, waiting.

"You said it was backed up for miles? That nobody was able to get out?" Jason asked.

"Some might have, at first. But for the most part, no. No one got out," Nico said.

"So everything that was on the highway--all the cars, and trucks, and vehicles--would still be left?"

"Last I saw," Nico confirmed.

"Then I think we might be able to work something out," Jason said. "Because, see, the big-ass bus they were evacuating us fosters on was stuck behind a semi tank."

Nico frowned. "So?"

"A tank of diesel," Jason elaborated. "It was, I don't know, some guy who'd come straight from work and thought it'd be fine to drag a couple thousand gallons of diesel with him. He was tanking up some of the other diesel trucks on the route, but if it's still there, there should be plenty left over for us."

"It's stuck on the highway, though," Nico said. "There's no way I'm going offroading with a semi tank. I'm not actually suicidal."

"Then we'll move the other cars."  
"We'll move the miles-long traffic jam?"

He had a point. They sat in silence, back to being defeated. Jason had really thought he was onto something; it might have been a scrap of hope, but it was better than nothing. Nico picked at the sole of his boot.

"God, I wish we could have just gotten out of here," he muttered, leaning his shoulder against the window and slumping down.  
Jason snapped his fingers. "Hang on. Everyone was going out of the city, right?"

"Yeah." Nico gave him a puzzled look, then snapped his own fingers, catching Jason's train of thought. "Oh, damn--that could work," he said. "We'll just have to knock out the guard rail, then we can--"  
"Take the incoming highway," Jason completed, excited. Plus, while they were there, they could check out Jason's bus; maybe Piper and Leo had left him a message. Or maybe they were still hanging around.

Anything was possible.

Nico got to his feet. "It's worth a shot," he declared. He wasn't as excited as Jason, but his steps were bouncier as he headed for the stairwell. "I'll get packing, we have a long walk ahead of us."

"Who said anything about walking?" Jason asked, also rising. "I'll drive."

"You can drive?"  
"Not legally, but I feel like that doesn't matter anymore."

Nico gave him a thin smile, which felt like a minor victory. 

Back on the second floor, the others were already awake. Frank was folding up the mess of coats and emergency blankets that they'd slept under, while Will counted packages of dried food in a plastic storage tote. Hazel was tying a scarf around her sleep-mussed hair, muttering swear words every time she caught her fingers on a stray curl.

"We're leaving," Nico announced, and the other three stopped what they were doing.

"To the grid?" Hazel asked.

"No, further out," her brother said, and Will made a noise like an angry cat, startling Jason. Will didn't seem like the type.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" the blond boy demanded. "No, no, just no."

"You don't even know--" Nico objected.

"I don't care!" Will exclaimed. "Anything farther than the grid is out of town. And out of town is too far."

"We don't have a choice," Nico said. 

"Yeah, we do. Stick with the original plan," Will said. He put his hands on his hips, glaring at first Nico, then Jason. Jason took an involuntary step back. The boy might have been shorter and younger than him, but he was still intimidating in his own right. His fierce expression reminded Jason, painfully, of Piper.

He hoped she was okay, wherever she was.

"That's . . . this is better," Nico said. "Trust me."  
"I don't trust you," Will said.  
"Then why are you still here?" Nico snapped. 

Hazel stepped between the boys, raising her hands placatingly. "Where are you going?" she asked. "When will you be back? Why are you going? Maybe if you explain the situation, we'll understand why you feel like you have to go."

Nico was still glowering at Will, so Jason took the plunge.

"We're going to the highway," he said. "There's a tank there that we need."  
"For what?" Will demanded. "What could you possibly need with a tank?"

"Fuel for the generator," Jason replied. "Powering the whole block is a waste, plus it will draw more zombies to us. Using a generator will be quieter, easier to control, and more sustainable in the long run."

"Until we run out of fuel."  
"The fuel is just to get it started," Jason said, although he didn't know if that was really how a generator worked. "Once it's on, it can run indefinitely--like a car with an unlimited supply of gas."

Will didn't look like he had much faith in the plan. Jason didn't blame him.   
"The highway is far," Hazel said, still in that overly calm voice. "Maybe we should all go together."  
"No," Nico snapped at once. "It's too dangerous."

"It's dangerous for you, too!" Will exclaimed. "Plus, you'll be with that guy." He jabbed his finger at Jason. "Just yesterday, you said you didn't trust him."  
"In my defense, that was an entire seventeen hours ago," Jason said. "A lot has happened since then."  
"Most of what happened since then was sleeping."

"Exactly--I didn't murder you in your sleep. Point for Grace." Jason spread his hands wide. "Look, I'm just a guy who wants to help. Simple as that."

Will was unconvinced. He turned to Nico, running his fingers through his grease-streaked hair, a deep crease between his eyebrows. "This is a terrible idea," he declared. "We don't need the--"

"We need it!" Nico snapped, his voice rising an octave. His carefully held mask slipped for a moment, real panic flitting across his face. "We. Need. It. Okay?"  
"Not okay," Will retorted. "It's absolutely unokay, di Angelo!" He raised his hands in Nico's direction, like he was about to strangle the guy. 

"There's no need to fight," Hazel cut in. She shoved Will away gently; she couldn't have more than tapped him, but he obligingly stepped back. Her hazel eyes were steely as they fell on her brother. "It's not like we can tie you up to keep you from going, Nico."

"Who says we can't?" Will muttered.  
"So just . . . be careful," she sighed, ignoring Will. "Please?"

It was absolutely none of Jason's business, but he stepped forwards anyway, his elbow brushing Nico's arm. "We're going to be careful," he said. "We'll have each other's back, swear to God." He looked down at Nico.

To his surprise, Nico was looking back up at him. His expression was uncertain, his eyes unreadable, but he nodded his agreement and lifted his chin. "We'll have each other's back," he echoed. 

"Well, why don't you friggin' get married, while you're at it," Will muttered. When Nico looked at him, he threw his hands in the air. "Fine, go get yourselves killed! It's not like I'll miss you more than I can humanly bear, or anything."

"Love you, too," Nico said.  
"It's because I--oh, you're serious," Will said. "Well . . . that's stupid. And you're stupid. And you can't win me over with sweet talk."

"Fine, fuck you."  
"What did I just say?"

Jason didn't know where to look. Frank was silently drawing in the corner, and Hazel was watching her brother with a wry expression, and Nico's face was too vulnerable, and looking at Will made him want to punch something for no good reason. 

His shoes suddenly became very fascinating.

"This is nice," Hazel said. "But if you two are leaving, it should be sooner rather than later."  
Nico cleared his throat. "Right. I'll just get a bag together."

"Take a go bag," Frank said, getting to his feet. "I can pack a replacement while you're gone. At least it'll give me something to do." He said the last part quietly, more to himself than anything else. He walked over to one of the desks, took a black backpack out from under it, and handed it to Nico. "There's only food for one, though . . ."

"It's fine, we'll split," Nico said, shouldering the pack. "We won't be gone more than a day, maybe two. A week's single rations should be fine." He paused. "Rations. I'm using soldier words, shit. What have you done to me?"

Frank just smiled. 

"Soldier?" Jason asked.

"Frank was in ROTC," Hazel explained. "So he's kind of our survival expert."

"Expert," Frank repeated doubtfully, frowning. His round face went red. "Not even close. I just had some lessons and stuff, when it comes to mooks, I freeze . . . "  
"We all freeze, except Captain Cold-Blooded over there," Will said, jabbing a thumb at Nico. "But he's crazy."

"Time to go," Nico said.  
"Exhibit A," Will mumbled. 

Hazel hugged both Nico and Jason goodbye, which Jason thought was nice. When she pulled him down to her level, however, she hissed in his ear--in a voice a good ten degrees colder than usual--"Bring my brother back alive or don't come back at all."

Jason straightened, catching sight of his own doom in her round, pretty eyes. "R-right," he stammered, rattled.

Hazel kissed Nico's cheek twice and hugged him again, reminding, "Don't forget your walkie. It'll be chancy outside the city, but check in anyway."  
Nico promised he would, and his sister fell back, letting Will have a turn at embracing him. Frank didn't even try for a hug, just nodded. And then they were going.

Jason felt Hazel's eyes on his back until the door closed behind him.  
He really hoped they survived this . . . or else they both were dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _title from Cat Stevens.  
>  Also, I've hit a road block around chapter 18 so . . . ugh. Updates might be spotty, sorry! I'll do my best._
> 
> p.s. Jason is totally crushin'.


	6. Cough Syrup

"This is surreal," Jason said, unable to get over the sight of zombies--real life, true-blue zombies--milling around in the road, occasionally raising a rotting hand towards the car as if to catch it. He drove at about ten miles an hour, trying not to hit any of the undead jaywalkers. 

When a mook slammed into the passenger side window, both he and Nico jumped. The creature, not moving fast enough to do any real damage, slid down the side of the car and out of sight. Jason felt the thump-bump as the car rolled over it, and tried not to think about it.

"This is crazy," Nico muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest. The Pine Sol air freshener fluttered between them, still releasing a faint Christmas-tree smell into the air. After the humid stench of rotting flesh, it was a nice change. 

Jason was still lowkey psyched that he got to drive a Volvo. He'd never in a million years thought he'd get to touch one of these cars, let alone be behind the wheel. As a sixteen-year-old foster kid, he hadn't thought he'd be able to drive, period. It wasn't that he didn't know how; he just didn't have the money to make everything official.

"Don't go changing your mind now," he said to Nico. "Not after you argued with Will so much back there." He paused. "So, speaking of Will, are you two . . ."

"None of your business? Why yes, yes we are," Nico replied. He crossed his arms over his knees. "Can't you go faster? It'll take two hours, at this rate."

"Have somewhere you need to be?" Jason snarked, but he sped up. He turned on the radio so they wouldn't have to talk, but was greeted with static. Right. He'd forgotten. He flipped through a few stations, but other than a still-running evacuation order, they were all down. He growled in frustration, both at the lack of radio and himself, for expecting otherwise.

"You know, I still have my cell phone," Nico said, like he knew exactly what Jason was thinking. "Battery's dead. Wouldn't work even if it was charged. But I still reach for it when I wake up, like there's going to be some Facebook update on the best ways to survive the apocalypse in style or a text from my mom reminding me to wash my hands after I stab a mook . . ." He trailed off, then went quiet. 

Jason didn't say anything. All he could think of was the fear in Piper's eyes as they sat on the bus, waiting for traffic to move. How she and Leo had pretended they weren't scared; playing card games and cracking jokes, dicking around like they always did, Jason's personal comedy duo. How all three of them had desperately held on to normalcy long after it was clear there was no more normal.

He took a hand off the wheel and extended it towards Nico, palm up. After a minute, Nico shuffled around, took something out of his pocket, and put it in Jason's hand, again like he knew exactly what Jason was thinking.

The phone was heavy in Jason's hand. It was just a useless lump of plastic, but it meant something, and that made it weighty. 

He rolled the window down and chucked the phone out. It hit some mook in the shoulder, sinking into soft flesh and staying there, lodged like a piece of shrapnel. Jason rolled the window back up. 

"I had airtime minutes left on that," Nico said.

"Your sense of humor is shit."

"Everything is shit," the boy replied. "Haven't you noticed?"

Jason had noticed. It wasn't just the people that were undead; the buildings had the same haunted, here-but-not-here look about them. In addition to shattered windows and abandoned cars, there were broken gutters and sagging awnings; sad, former store fronts and office buildings with graffiti and--Jason's personal favorite--blood smeared across their doors.

"It must have been horrible," he said aloud.

Nico hugged his knees again. "It was chaos," he said. "And then it died down, and all that was left was this. The quiet."

"You guys never thought about leaving?" Jason asked. "Looking for other survivors, or--"

"We're fine where we are," Nico said sharply. His tone made it clear he wasn't talking about it any longer. 

"Okay, fine," Jason said. 

Nico started rifling through the CD caddy, now as eager for a distraction as Jason. "Oh, look," he said, with just the right degree of dry humor in his voice, "Barry Manilow. This is officially a crisis."

Jason cracked a smile. "Could be worse."

"Name one."

"Dionne Warwick."

Nico yanked out another CD and waved it at Jason. "You spoke too soon."

Jason groaned. 

"Take a right up here," Nico instructed, pointing to an intersection they were approaching. If they went straight, they'd be at the highway in a half hour, give or take. Jason didn't recognize the street that Nico was directing him down.

"That's not the right way," he said uncertainly.

"I know," Nico replied. "Just do it." 

Jason complied, rolling to a stop at the bright red sign and putting on his blinker.

"You're kidding, right?" Nico sighed. 

"Laugh if you want, but with my luck lately, the minute I miss a stop sign is the minute the only other running car in the city comes out of nowhere to hit us," Jason said. "I'm not taking any chances."

He turned down the side street.

"Watch out for pedestrians," Nico said sarcastically, gesturing to the undead loitering around. There were fewer here than on the main road; it was easier to drive. "And pull over here."

Jason pulled over. They were in front of a music store.

"Are you crazy?" he asked. Nico, already in the process of getting out, glanced over his shoulder and grinned. 

"It's a road trip. We need decent music. Wait here if you want." 

Uh, _hell no_. Jason scrambled out of the car after Nico, pocketing the keys. They sprinted across the sidewalk, even though the nearest zombie was yards away and hadn't noticed them. 

"What if there are some of them inside?" Jason hissed.

"Keep your voice down," Nico whispered back. "They're more likely to hear us than smell us."

The door was broken, hanging off one hinge, and Nico and Jason had to clamber over it to get inside. Hopefully, that meant no mooks had wandered in over the last few weeks.

The inside of the store was just as wrecked as the rest of the city. The CD racks and record bins were trashed, their contents spilled over the floor and crushed. The cash register was on its side, cash drawer hanging open and empty. The candy bar display was barren, but when Jason crouched down to check the bottom shelf, he noticed three Cliff bars had slid underneath the display and gone unnoticed. He wormed his hand into the gap between the bottom of the shelf and the floor and yanked them out.

"Add them to the stash," Nico said, without turning to look at Jason. He was crouched down, sifting through the CDs on the floor.

Jason went over, unzipped the backpack on Nico's shoulder, and dropped the bars in. He hadn't seen the contents of the go bag before; now he noticed a tarp, some granola bars and silvery bags of chips, one of those orange safety hammers for breaking glass in case of emergency, and a flashlight. The cupholders on either side of the backpack were stuffed with mini bottles of water.

Nico held up two CDs. "We have Tears for Fears or Imagine Dragons. I honestly thought the soundtrack to the end of the world would be more bomb."

"There's also Enya," Jason said, picking up another CD.

"Put that slice of ear poison down," Nico ordered. 

"Just grab a handful and let's go," Jason said, obediently throwing the CD back onto a pile of dusty Easy Listenings. He was surprised this many CDs were left--the records he understood, they were far from portable, but CDs? Weren't music stores one of the first places that looters hit? 

Nico didn't exactly grab a handful and go, but he seemed to get less picky about his choices, and soon enough they were heading back to the car. Jason was so wrapped up in the enraptured look on Nico's face as he shuffled through his new music that he didn't notice the mook until he ran into it.

The monster immediately latched onto his arm; its grip pinched like he was being held by an uncooked chicken and Jason's own hand automatically shot out, driving into the creature's sternum to keep it at bay. It opened its mouth, releasing the worst smell Jason had ever had the misfortune to encounter--long-rotted meat. He immediately wanted to hurl, but the panic spiking through his brain kept the impulse at bay.

The zombie's teeth clacked ominously, gnoshing at him in a sick parody of eating. He kicked at its legs, but it was surprisingly forceful; he couldn't shift his position much without losing his balance. 

_Shick._

Jason didn't understand what happened, at first. One minute he was wrestling with a walking heap of garbage, and the next, something wet splattered across his glasses and he flinched. The pressure of the zombie's hand disappeared, replaced by the urgent grip of something else--something warm and alive. Nico hauled him into the car, slamming the door shut behind them just as another mook slammed both hands against the window of the car.

"So, they noticed us," Nico said conversationally.

Jason yanked his glasses off with shaking hands and tossed them on the dashboard. He wanted nothing to do with them.

"I would drive," Nico advised, still creepily calm. Will was right--this guy was cold blooded. He lightly shoved Jason's back, encouraging him back into the driver's seat.

Outside, two or three of the mooks had clustered by the window, pounding the glass with their limp, greenish hands. Jason could only look at those slavering faces for so long; heart racing at his close call, he worked the keys out of his pocket and started the car, pulling away from the curb so rapidly, the tires screeched against the pavement.

"Oh, call more of them, why don't you," Nico snarked.

"You're the one who wanted to stop!" Jason all-but-shrieked, his nerves coming out in the worst way. He pealed down the street, looking for somewhere to turn around, wanting nothing more than to get to the damn highway and get this over with. There were streaks of dirt and blood on his forearm from where the zombie had grabbed him.

Nico took Jason's glasses from the dashboard, cleaning them on his shirt. He seemed totally unperturbed by the film of--Jason didn't want to look at what it was smeared across them. Guts? Blood? Whatever it was, the knife resting on Nico's thigh was coated with the same thing.

Jason was definitely going to be sick.

He whipped into a parking garage, stopping the car as soon as it looked safe enough, and tumbled from the car, landing on his hands and knees. The concrete banged his kneecaps and scraped his palms, but he hardly noticed because his stomach was busy rejecting his breakfast.

Throwing up was even worse than smelling the mook. The taste of bile on his tongue made him heave even harder, straining his stomach muscles and irritating his throat. The bitter taste stayed in his mouth even as he spit out the last bits of vomit.

"Ew," Nico said. He'd opened his door, and was standing on the passenger seat so he could fold his arms on the roof and look over it at Jason, who glared over his shoulder and wiped his mouth on his wrist. 

"You okay now?" Nico asked.

"How are you so calm?" Jason demanded. "We almost--shit, we could have died."

Nico actually laughed. It was a chilling sound. "You're finally catching on," he said. "It's like I keep telling you--nowhere is safe." He tossed something across the roof; it slid easily across the aluminum before clattering, far too noisily, to the concrete next to Jason. It was Nico's knife, still coated in zombie goop.

Jason didn't want to touch it.

"I have two," Nico said. "You can use that one."

"I don't want to." 

Jason hadn't meant the words to come out quite so honest, but there they were; in all their petulant, childlike glory. 

Nico swung back into the car, easing over the seats to come out the other side. He knelt in front of Jason and held out his glasses. Jason bowed his head, letting Nico slide them back on. Nico's knuckles brushed his cheeks, and Jason closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds. 

Nico picked up the knife, oblivious. "Don't be a kid, Jason. What if that thing had grabbed me and not you? Are you really okay with watching people die and not being able to stop it?"

"You're playing dirty," Jason observed.

Nico gave him a thin smile. "I'm appealing to your better nature." He held out the knife.

Jason, reluctantly, took it, and Nico stood. 

"Okay. So, mook defense 101," he said, motioning for Jason to stand as well. "If you don't puncture the brain, it doesn't stop coming. And yes, you do have to kill it."

"I know that," Jason said, a little annoyed. "That's what they were telling us before the evacuation."

"Just checking. I get the feeling I shouldn't underestimate your wide-eyed idealism," Nico told him. "The ear or the temple is the best place to stab. There are natural fractures and openings in the skull in those spots. Also here--" he reached out, touching the area on Jason's head, "here, and here." He briefly, lightly brushed his fingers over the other locations.

Jason shivered, for reasons that had nothing to do with killing zombies.

Misinterpreting his reaction for fear, Nico added, "Just stick with the ear. It's the simplest. And if the smell makes you sick--hold your breath. The most important thing is to not lose your nerve. The second you panic and start acting out of instinct, you're dead."

Jason's eyes followed Nico's fingers as they fell back to his side. 

"Jason?" Nico prompted, and Jason snapped out of his trance. What was he even doing? 

"Got it. Keep my nerve, go for the ear," he said. "Anything else?"

"Don't get bitten," Nico suggested.

Jason rolled his eyes. "You don't say?" Pushing away his disgust, he wiped the knife blade on his jeans and stuck it in his belt. Then he got in the car, spitting one last time on the concrete before he did so. Going around to the passenger side again, Nico took out of the bottles of water.

"Rinse your mouth," he instructed.

"Waste of water," Jason said.

"Bile rots your teeth," Nico said, and shook the bottle impatiently. 

Jason rinsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Cough Syrup_ , Young the Giant. Also, apologies if you like any of the bands/artists that the boys trashed. They're, like, nine years old at heart . . . they don't know anything.


	7. 505

The highway crept up on them in degrees; first, the buildings peppered out. Then the number of cars Jason had to maneuver around increased. The road shifted from two lanes going opposite ways to one, and then they were driving up the curve of the entrance ramp and then they weren't driving at all, faced with a wall of cars that were unable to merge with the three crammed lanes of the highway.

"We'll have to leave the car here," Jason observed.

"Really, Captain Obvious? I thought we'd pull a Harry Potter and enchant the car to fly over the traffic," Nico said. He ejected the CD they'd been listening to--something called Young the Giant that made Jason feel like he was drinking a bottle of soda upside-down with ants dancing on his toes--and snapped it back into its case, dropping it into his backpack with the others. 

"Sarcasm is cute in small doses," Jason said. "Emphasis on _small_."

Nico just scoffed. He thought he was all that with his snark and his eye-rolling and his stupid expressive face, but Jason had just spent nearly an hour in a cramped car with him and knew better. As he'd observed earlier, Nico was a little shit.

They waded through the sea of cars, not sticking too closely together. Jason was pretty sure they both wanted a break from each other. He peeked into a few windows, but the scenes were too sad to keep that up for long. Most people had abandoned their possessions and just left; their lives preserved in the vehicles they'd left behind. 

In one car, a small, slavering bundle snarled at Jason from a baby seat--he stopped looking, after that, and went back to Nico's side. Nico was annoying, but Jason felt safer with him.

Nico moved carefully through the cars, eyes alert, head turning every few seconds to check their surroundings. He had his knife out, raised to his chin in a ready position, and his left hand was on the gun tucked in his belt. Jason wondered if he really knew how to shoot it, and how he'd learned, and also, if the two of them would need it.

"How far from here?" Nico asked.

"We were almost out of the city," Jason said regretfully. "Lucky for me then--unlucky for us, now. It'll be a couple miles to walk."

Nico nodded, just accepting this. "You're a pretty good runner. I noticed it yesterday. Athlete?"

"Former," Jason corrected. "And I'm not that good."

"You should see Will run, then." Nico snorted.

"You guys are close," Jason said, finding an opportunity he hadn't realized he was looking for. Nico glanced over his shoulder for a minute. His face was composed, but then he ran into the sideview mirror of a car, confirming Jason's suspicions that his calm was an act. 

"We're . . . we've known each other a long time," Nico said, sounding flustered. He glared at the mirror as if asking how it dared get in his path. "The short version is, my dad left my mom when I was still a kid, and Will's dad, our neighbor, kind of stepped in whenever Mom needed help with guy stuff. So we grew up close."

"Guy stuff?"

"You know." Nico made a gesture like he was jerking off. "Safe sex. Changing bodies. How to fight a bully. How to shoot a gun." 

"Uh . . . okay. Wow." Jason had no idea what to say to that, so he jumped to a different topic. "So you can shoot that thing?"

Nico raised his eyebrows, a small smile curling over his lips. "I'm going to assume the gun is the 'thing' you're referring to." He clutched his belt, not-so-subtly gesturing to his crotch.

"And there's that shitty sense of humor again."

"Sorry. That one was Will's fault." Nico navigated around another car mirror, more successfully this time. "But yeah, I know how to fire a weapon. Taught Hazel--she's a lot better than me, actually. But we don't have a ton of ammo, and the noise is dangerous, so I haven't actually shot anything since this all went down." 

"You shot something before?" Jason asked, a little concerned.

"Just paper targets," Nico said. "Geez--you should see your face. Did you think I meant a person?"

"I kind of had that impression, yeah."  
"I'm not that hardcore," Nico snorted. 

"You did admit you probably would have left me to die in that telephone booth," Jason pointed out. "I'm not putting anything past you."  
"Oh ye of little faith." Nico threw him another smile. Jason was getting too spoiled on those; he was starting to miss them when they were gone.

"So, the last thing you remember is being here?" Nico asked, after they'd walked in silence for a few minutes. 

"Kind of," Jason said, and recounted his feelings of panic, running, and the fleeting memory of his sister. "I'm not sure if any of that happened, though, or if it was just a dream. I have no idea how I got in that booth, or where the walkie-talkie came from, or anything." He patted the walkie on his belt, then grimaced. "I mean, if I'd really been passed out there for months, I should have died from starvation or exposure."

"You could have hit your head," Nico said. He made it sound so simple, like in cartoons-- _bam, hit your head, now you're amnesiac_. But Jason didn't feel like he'd forgotten anything. It was just like he'd checked out for a couple months, brain offline, nothing there to make memories. 

"I guess it doesn't matter," he said aloud. "I'm here, now. That's what counts."

"You think you'll find your friends here, don't you?" Nico said. He slowed his pace, walking beside Jason instead of in front of him. The longer they went without encountering a zombie, the more relaxed he became; although 'relaxed' was a relative word. 

"Or some hint of where they went," Jason said, and shrugged. "At the very least, find out what happened to the kids on the bus. If they all headed somewhere on foot, maybe one of the adults left a sign inside for us stragglers." He'd like to think his foster home had wondered about him, even a little bit. 

Nico hummed. He probably thought Jason was being grossly optimistic again. A second later, he started humming again--this time, one of the songs from the CD. Jason took that as a cue to stop talking. 

It was a beautiful day for a walk down a deserted highway. The sky was clear and blue, and the weather was just right--not too cool, and not too hot. There were even birds singing, the only sound besides the rustling of distant wind. 

No airplanes. No cars. Somehow, engrossed in his talks with Nico, Jason hadn't noticed the wall of quiet lurking behind their flippant words. But out here, it was impossible to ignore. It swallowed them up, and more than once he thought this might be what the afterlife looked like--miles upon miles of road, the closest thing to eternity the earth could provide, and solitude. 

He was glad to pass a green exit sign; they were almost there. He started scanning the rows of cars, looking for a blue bus or silver tank. There were a handful of trucks on the road, but none of them were the one he remembered. 

As he and Nico had predicted, the inbound lane was nearly empty. No one wanted to come in to the city, save a dusty red muscle car and a big, camouflage Jeep. Jason wondered what the story was there. 

And then he was passing a familiar BMW, and catching Nico's sleeve, and dragging him towards a big, blue bus.

"That's it," he said. "That's the bus."  
"So where's the--" Nico began, more focused on the diesel truck than the bus, but Jason was speeding up, sprinting to the bus.

The doors were hanging limp and open, the bus listing to one side as if still waiting for its passengers to unload. They'd left it, then--that was good. Probably. Jason mounted the stairs, tearing inside without a second thought. 

"Jason!" Nico called from outside, his voice muffled. He sped up, footsteps thumping on the tar, and caught himself in the door, standing at the foot of the stairs with his hands on either side of the entrance. "Jason," he repeated. "There's nothing here."

Nothing?

No, there was _everything_. Kids' backpacks and suitcases still in the overhead compartments--a portable DVD player abandoned on one of the seats--the keys still in the ignition. 

"They ran," Jason said. "They must have. They left all their stuff behind." He whirled around to face Nico. "Maybe they're coming back."

"Right. Like everyone else who ditched their cars," Nico said. "Clearly, the lady who left her baby in a bumper seat was intending to come back for him."

So he'd seen that, too.

"I just--" Jason began, then stopped as his eyes fell on a knapsack in one of the seats. He'd recognize that grease-smeared monstrosity anywhere; it was Leo's. He scrambled to the seat, seizing the bag. Piper's neon yellow backpack was on the floor, open. Her art supplies were scattered across the floor. 

Nico mounted the stairs, heaving a great sigh. "We don't really have time for this."

"They were here."

"Of course they were here. You were here, too, remember?" 

Jason straightened, reaching up to fumble around in the overhead compartment. "Right. I was here," he mumbled. "So my luggage should be . . ."

But it wasn't. He knew he'd put his bag here, but it was gone. He swore under his breath. "Not here."

He could practically hear Nico rolling his eyes. 

Ignoring the other boy, he opened Leo's knapsack. It was missing most of its usual contents--no bag of tools, no wallet of pictures, no rolled-up army jacket. Piper's bag was similarly bereft. 

"Maybe they took my bag," he said. "You know, to travel lighter. Some of their stuff is missing."  
"Or someone came along after they left and raided this place."

"Leo's wallet is gone," Jason argued. "He didn't have anything in there but pictures--what would a looter want with that? And who would take Piper's favorite book but leave her iPod?" 

"Okay, so they were here," Nico said. "But they aren't now, so let's move."  
"Just a minute." Jason rifled through the many pockets of Leo's bag, making absolutely sure they were empty. Nico made an impatient noise, but Jason didn't mind him and his diligence paid off--in the second to last pocket was a rolled up piece of paper.

He pulled it out and flattened it on his knee. 

_J_ , it read, _we're headed north. Remember that place in Seattle? We'll wait there for you as long as we can. XOXOXO please be safe; Leo and Piper_. 

A wave of reassurance passed over Jason. He could hear his friends' voices as if they were sitting right in front of him, composing the note. He felt a lot less alone. 

"They're going to Seattle," he said, stuffing the note in his pocket. He took Piper's iPod, too, for good measure. "Which means, so am I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _title from the Arctic Monkeys song_


	8. Unbelievers

Jason and Nico stood outside the bus, staring at the guard rail dividing the diesel tank in front of them from the road they needed to get to. Jason hadn't expected the task to be easy, of course--but he also hadn't counted on it looking this hard.

"Should I point out the obvious problem?" Nico asked. 

"What obvious problem?" Jason asked, and the other boy groaned.

"You know. The truck is on this side of the rail," he pointed, "and we need it on that side of the rail."

Jason crossed his arms. "Yeah, I know that," he said.

"No need to get testy."

"You were being snarky. Snarky warrants testy."

"I could still leave you out here," Nico threatened.

"I don't see how," Jason said. "That truck isn't going anywhere."

"Apparently, you are," Nico muttered.

Jason threw him a sharp look. Ever since they'd left the bus, Nico had been in a sour mood--that was, an even sourer mood. He seemed to be trying to pick a fight, but Jason couldn't see why. Maybe Jason was wrong and Nico was just in a normal sour mood. Maybe Jason was making too much of a bad mood at the end of the world. Maybe it didn't matter and Jason shouldn't be obsessing over it. 

"Are you just going to stand there, glaring at me?" Nico demanded, his scowl deepening. "Or are you going to jump the rail and get some shit done?"

"Shut up, I'm on it," Jason grumbled, vaulting over the guard rail. He sprinted back towards the city, going nearly a mile before reaching the Jeep he'd seen before. When he turned around, he could just see Nico, a dark spot leaning against the silver rail. 

There was an uneasy twinge in his stomach from being so far away, so he quickly clambered into the Jeep. The previous owner had left the keys--excellent. He stifled a cheer of triumph and started the vehicle up; there was less than a quarter tank of gas, but that should be okay for what Jason needed. He drove a few feet up, did a U-turn, and headed back to Nico, feeling like he'd been gone too long. 

They scavenged through half a dozen cars before finding some rope--Jason wasn't sure it would hold, but Nico was getting impatient and neither of them wanted to camp on the highway. They wove it back and forth between the Jeep and the rail, looping and tying and praying for the best. When they were done, they took a second to stand back and appreciate their work.

"It'd be better if we both had a car," Jason said.

"Well, we don't," Nico said. "I can't drive."

"I could teach you."

Nico sighed. "Let's give this a chance first. The sun's going to set soon."

Jason climbed back into the Jeep, motioning for Nico to stand back. Nico leapt over the railing and went to stand by the diesel truck, hugging his elbows and watching Jason with wide, tense eyes.

Jason started the Jeep, and tentatively pressed the accelerator. He was most concerned about the wheels skidding over the pavement. The engine roared in loud, dangerous protest, and he stopped at once.

"What are you doing?" Nico called.

Jason leaned out the window and motioned for Nico to come back. "You should get into the bus," he said. "In case the noise attracts any mooks." 

"And what will you do?" Nico asked. He gestured to the open windows, then the rope keeping the Jeep tied to the guardrail. "You're basically a Lunchable."

"Better one of us trapped than both," Jason said. "Get in the bus."

A sulky look flitted over Nico's face. "Don't tell me what to do," he said.

"Now isn't the time for--"

"I'm frickin' serious, I'll do whatever I want," Nico declared, and climbed up onto the Jeep.

"Stoppit--" Jason said, locking the door just before Nico tried to open it. Nico struggled with the handle for a minute, then hauled himself onto the roof, shaking the whole vehicle. "Oh, for crap's sake," Jason called up to him. "Don't be so--"

Nico dropped in through the sun roof. It was all sneakers and curses and flying boy limbs for a chaotic few seconds as he repositioned himself into the passenger's seat, then looked over at Jason as if daring him to say anything.

"You're being really childish, I hope you know that," Jason said, and slammed on the accelerator. The tires screeched, losing traction, and he swore.

"Not quite that hard," Nico said, then added softly, "That's what she said."

"I want to throw you out of this vehicle."

"And I want to celebrate my birthday in Disney World. We don't always get what we want."

Jason tried the accelerator again. He thought he heard the guardrail strain. "When's your birthday?"

"December 31th."

"And you're going to be, what, twelve?" Jason pumped the pedal steadily, gauging how fast he could press it down. 

"Fifteen. I refuse to be age-shamed by a guy who wears Superman boxers."

"Wh--" Jason was so surprised, his foot slipped off the pedal and they almost rolled backwards off the road. "How the heck do you know that?"

Nico raised his eyebrows. "I have my ways."

"That's creepy." Jason eased down on the pedal again, working his way up to a steady, constant thrust. "C'mon," he muttered, attention shifting to the matter at hand, rather than their bickering. "C'mon, just a little more--"

He heard another creak. This time, it definitely wasn't his imagination. The metal of the guard rail was buckling. 

Nico twisted around in his seat, looking behind them. "It's bending," he said, genuinely enthusiastic for the first time. "It's working!"

Jason let up on the accelerator for a split second, then floored it. The engine roared. Metal shrieked. And with a thum-thum-thum, three of the guard posts tore from the ground, the metal stripped between them bending, twisting, and eventually snapping. The Jeep, no longer tethered, tore down the highway, the section of guardrail clanking behind them like a tin can at the world's redneckest wedding procession. 

Jason whooped, not daring to slam on the brakes until the speedometer fell back under sixty. Nico cheered, but it was a bit pathetic. It was easy to guess he hadn't been to too many pep rallies in high school. 

"This way, we should be back just after sunset," Jason said. The Jeep was still coasting, and he eased on the brakes, cautiously pulling the vehicle in another U-turn. The racket was unbelievable--he was eager to get off the highway as soon as possible. 

"Good," Nico said. He had the door open before Jason brought the Jeep to a complete stop, leaping down with the ground still rolling under them.

Jason put the vehicle in park, and left the keys in the ignition. Maybe someone else would need it. 

Nico was already halfway to the diesel truck, not even turning to see if Jason was following. He definitely had a bug up his butt about getting back to the city--not that Jason really blamed him. He could sympathize with wanting to return to your family; that was why he was heading to Seattle as soon as humanly possible. He had to find Leo and Piper, no matter what.

Nico had already settled in the passenger seat by the time Jason got there. He dangled a set of keys in Jason's face as soon as Jason climbed in. "They were in the glove box."

"Cool." Jason took the keys, approaching the driver's seat with apprehension. As soon as he sat, he realized something. "It's manual."

"Manual?"

"Manual." Jason pointed to the gear shaft. "As in . . . well, as in manual."

"Can you drive manual?"

"In a car. Barely." Jason took a deep breath. It did nothing to calm his nerves. "There wasn't an instruction booklet in the glove box, too, was there?"

"Nope." Nico eyed him. "Are you still sure about this?"

_No_.

Jason looked over at him. Nico had one foot on the seat, knee bent to his chest, the go bag resting on his other leg. His face was drawn.

Jason thought back to last night, to how Nico had looked on the stairwell, all sick with nerves and twisted up and allowing Jason to see him like that, when he wouldn't let anyone else in. 

His heart throbbed. He couldn't let this stupid, scared boy down, not when everything else in the world had. He'd given his word, for one thing. And he wanted to see the relief in Nico's eyes when they succeeded in bringing the power back. He'd never wanted anything so badly in his life.

"No other choice, right?" he said, and put the key in the ignition.

Nothing happened. The engine went for a second, then fizzed out. Jason tried again. And again. And again. 

"What are you doing?" Nico asked. "Stop dicking around."

"I'm not," Jason said, stung. "It's not starting."

"What do you mean, it's not starting?"

Jason threw him a pointed look, turning the key one last time. The engine roared, then died back down. "I mean, it's not starting."

Nico stared at him like he didn't understand a word of what Jason was saying. 

Jason took the keys out. "Are you sure there wasn't an instruction manual?"

"It's . . . not starting?" Nico asked, a beat behind in the conversation. "I mean . . . it can't. It has to start."

"Wanna come over and try it?" Jason offered, half sarcastic. "I'm not making this up, Neeks--"

"Maybe you're doing it wrong. Move over." Nico hardly gave Jason a chance to climb out of the seat before he was climbing in; they awkwardly maneuvered around each other in the space. Nico nearly kicked Jason in the nads. Jason found himself shoving Nico's shoulder down just to keep his own balance. He half-fell, half sat in the passenger seat.

Nico took the keys and stuck them in the ignition. His attempts to start the car were met with the same end. He gave the steering wheel the same look he'd just given Jason.

"It's not working," he said.

"Is that so?" Jason asked, picking Nico's go bag up from where it had fallen on the floor. "Look, I'll take a look at the engine, but I don't know a ton about--okay, I don't know jack about these rigs. But I'll look."

Nico grunted, holding out his hand for the bag. Jason took the orange safety hammer out--it seemed like he should be holding some kind of tool while he looked at the engine, no matter how useless--and passed the kit over. 

For all he knew, the thing was just out of gas. But Nico didn't seem like he was going to give up so easily. His gaze was all but drilling a hole in the dashboard. 

Focused more on Nico than where he was going, Jason opened the cab door and hopped out without looking.

That was a mistake.

He didn't know how it happened. He didn't know where the thing came from. All Jason _did_ know was that he jumped down into the arms of a decaying Prince Charming. He had just enough time to process the fact that he'd chest-bumped a zombie before it lunged at his face.

He tried to retreat, his shoulders slamming into the cab stairs with enough force to send him pinballing back towards the creature. His head crashed into something hard. There was a flare of pain in his temple, and then the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _cue dramatic music.  
>  Title from Vampire Weekend._


	9. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

Jason was beginning to get used to regaining consciousness at the worst times. 

In this case, he woke up in the passenger's seat of the truck cab to find the highway flooded with the undead. They swarmed around the cars, ambled through the hole in the guard rail that Jason and Nico had created, pounded on the closed door of the cab.

Jason's head was killing him. He reached up to touch it, and found it was tightly bandaged--which explained why his hearing was muffled on one side and he felt like there was a vise around his skull. His glasses were gone. He rubbed his eyes, his hand coming away with flakes of sleep-crust and dried blood. His left eye was particularly tender--when he yanked the rearview mirror around to check, he saw it was badly bruised. 

He looked awful, between the makeshift bandage (it looked like Nico's t-shirt), the black eye, and his grimy, wild hair. His expression was both grim and afraid. He'd never seen his eyes so hollow, not even when he was living with Mom and not sure when his next meal would be.

He flipped the mirror back up, disgusted. It didn't matter what he looked like--what mattered was that, impossibly, he was alive. 

And . . . alone. While someone had clearly saved his life, locked him securely in the cab, and bandaged his wound (Jason didn't even want to think about what his head looked like under the bandage, not with the way it was throbbing), there was no one else in the cab. Specifically, there was no sign of Nico. The driver's seat was empty. The go bag was gone. The only things in the cab were Jason, two seats, and an empty bottle of Mountain Dew on the floor. 

His hand went to his belt; he yanked up his shirt to get to it faster, and saw that the knife Nico had gave him was still there. When he got out of the seat, just to test how steady he was on his feet, he spotted the safety hammer on the floor by the gearshaft. His head pounded, but he remained upright.

He knelt on the passenger's seat to look out the window. There was a small cluster of mooks banging on the door, their faces all tilted up like they were looking back at him.  
He shivered, and dropped back down. 

He tried not to be hurt that Nico had abandoned him. The boy had taken the time to patch him up, after all--and when he looked at the state of things outside, he didn't blame Nico for running. Jason, unconscious, would have been nothing but dead weight, and only a fool would stay behind to be trapped with him.

The sky was grayish, promising rain, but looked nowhere close to night. He must have been out for hours. Maybe days. Maybe, given his history, months.

He shook off the thought. Time didn't matter. Zombies didn't care if you were late to your own final moments. They were fine with breakfast, lunch, dinner, brunch, teatime snack--any time was crunch time.

He forced himself to calm the frickety-frack down. He was already better off than he'd been when he woke up in the telephone booth. He was armed. He had a couple of half-assed mook-killing lessons under his belt. He was fully equipped to break glass in case of emergency. And he wasn't in immediate danger, elevated from the ground and shut in a cab. So he was going to be okay.

The second he tried to leave, he'd be devoured, but otherwise he was going to be okay.

Jason took a deep breath. Calming the frickety-frack down wasn't working for him. 

Just when he thought he might do something stupid, like scream or start to cry, the slatted wood paneling behind the cab's seats crumpled like an accordion, revealing a whole other section of the cab that Jason hadn't known existed.

It was a living space, complete with narrow bunk bed above a table and booth, a mini-fridge on one side and a stack of shelves on the other. Books and dry goods were crammed on the shelves, while clothes hung from hangers off the side of the bunk like curtains. Nico, an oversized bomber jacket over his bare chest, was standing there with one hand on the folding partition and the other cradling an orange soda. He held it out to Jason.

"You're probably going to need this," he said. "You've been unconscious for two days."

When Jason didn't immediately take it, Nico forced it into his hand, curling Jason's fingers around the can and popping the tab himself.

"Drink," he said impatiently. "It's lukewarm, but it's better than nothing."

Jason didn't realized his throat was dry until he took the first sip. The soda was still fizzy; it bubbled over his tongue, but he didn't care. He guzzled it down in seconds, covering his burp with a fist.

Nico gave him a thin smile. "Told you so."

Jason wiped his mouth on his wrist and chucked the can on the floor. There was so much debris in the little annex room, he doubted one more can would make a difference. "Why are you still here?" he asked.

Nico twirled his finger around, presumably gesturing to the outside. "Have you noticed? We're not alone."

"Yeah, but--you could have split before."

Nico shrugged. "Happened too fast. I mean, I guess I could have shoved your unconscious body to the mooks and ran . . ." He rubbed his chin like he was thinking about it.  
Jason leaned on the back of the passenger seat. His stomach was rumbling, but he was afraid to ask about the state of their food. "Thanks for not doing that."

Nico shrugged again, moving to the tiny booth. He sat down, picking up a crossword puzzle book and a pencil that had been lying on the table. "I should have, but whatever." He chewed on the end of the pencil. "Got a four-letter word for 'an ill-timed joke'?"

"I have plenty of four-letter words," Jason muttered, easing off the seat and into the living quarters. 

"That makes two of us. Have the green beans, if you're hungry. They're going to spoil without the fridge." Nico pointed to an already opened can on top of the mini-fridge. "Also, on that note, don't open the mini-fridge. It's a mistake and we'll both regret it."

Jason took the green beans. Before, he'd hated the things--now . . . well, he still hated them, but he willingly choked the cold vegetables down to sate his stomach. It was a hundred times better than living another second with the hollow feeling in his belly.

He sat in the booth across from Nico, bringing the can to his lips to drink the green bean juice. Nico did his crossword in silence. 

"This looks pretty bad," Jason said, when he was finished eating. He set the can by his elbow. "How's the food situation?"

"Not terrible," Nico replied, eyes still on the puzzle book. "We have Frank's supplies, the Cliff bars you found, and about half of this guy's road snacks. Rationing it out, we could easily manage a few weeks in here--maybe stretch it to a month if we tried." He marked a word in the book. "Since I don't know how long we'll be stuck here, I'd recommend the latter. But we should decide together."

"No, you're right," Jason told him. "I'm not going to disagree with you." There were other problems--water, a toilet, the knowledge that they would inevitably run out of food and patience with each other--but Jason didn't bring them up. He had a feeling Nico had already thought of all that while Jason was out. 

Nico tapped his pencil on the book. "Five-letter word for 'insanity'," he mumbled. "Ends in y, so 'Jason' doesn't fit."

"Ha. Ha." Jason touched his bandaged head. "Thanks for the Band-Aid," he said. "Sorry about your shirt."

"I won't miss it," Nico replied, setting down his crossword long enough to pop the collar of the bomber. "I got a bitchin' jacket to replace it."

Jason barked out a laugh. It was short and awkward, but it was still a laugh. "Is that what you think that is?"

"Only the finest in old-trucker fashion." Nico looked at him. There was a fresh scrape on his collarbone, but otherwise he seemed unharmed--that was good, at least. "You should change," he said. "Hunter orange probably isn't the best idea when you're the prey."

"Ouch. I'll have you know I was the talk of the group home," Jason said, but he got to his feet and rifled through the hanging clothes anyway. "Let's see, what do we have . . . 1980s bowler?" He pulled out a polyester polo, Hawaiian print, and held it up to his chest. 

He was going for a smile, but he didn't get one. He took out a knobbly sweater instead. "Okay. Then maybe this jazzy number from the House-elf collection? A Dobby specialty?" 

Nothing.

Jason dropped the sweater, and the attempt at humor. "Alright, bad timing," he said. He threw a brown flannel on over his t-shirt, tucking the excess into the waist of his jeans. Last thing he needed was loose clothing to catch on branches, nails, zombie hands . . . if he ever got out of here, anyway. "Should've known not to quip."

Nico jumped, nearly throwing his pencil in the air. "That's it!" he exclaimed, excitedly jotting something in his puzzle book. "Quip, quip, quip . . ." 

"You kind of sound like a bird right now."

"Shut up--so if quip goes there, then 7-down must be quake--" Nico trailed off, furiously filing in squares. He was so passionate about it, Jason wondered if he'd lost his mind. 

Nico had said he'd been out for two days, and they'd been gone almost a whole day when Jason was knocked out. That meant they'd been gone for three, three and a half days on what was supposed to be a quick run. Before they'd left, Nico had mentioned there was only a couple days left before their frozen food thawed--and probably spoiled. 

Staying with Jason had cost Nico their entire mission. He guessed Nico was entitled to a little mental breakdown. 

He slid into the booth and asked, "The walkie?"

Nico wordlessly shook his head. Either it wasn't working, or he hadn't gotten a response. Jason hoped it just wasn't working.

"You know we can't stay here forever, right?" he asked.

Nico rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I wasn't planning on it."

"Okay. You just seem a little . . . off," Jason said. "Like . . . comfortable with this whole thing. Like you're in denial."

"I'm not in deni--oh, don't look at me like that," Nico scoffed. "I mean it. I'm just--" He spread his hands out and shrugged. "I already threw my temper tantrum. I already fell apart. And when I was done, I was still here, wondering if this whole episode would end with me stabbing you in the head."

Jason raised his eyebrows.

"Because you turned," Nico said. "Not because . . . y'know, just because." He picked up his pencil again, fiddling with it. "Believe it or not, I've kind of liked having you around."

"True, I don't believe it," Jason said, and touched his head. "Have I woken up in Oz? Are you about to break into song?"

Nico hummed a few off-key bars of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", and finally gave Jason the smile he was waiting for. Jason grinned back. 

"So . . . what are we going to do?" he asked. "Unless clicking our heels and wishing our way out is an option?"

"I wish," Nico muttered. He tapped the pencil on the table. "I don't see this rig suddenly springing into life--and whatever's wrong, we can't fix. Even if we knew how, we can't get out there to do it. Well." He paused. "We can get out, no problem. It's the staying-out-without-getting-bitten part that's the challenge."

"That does seem to be the trick." Jason leaned forward. He was getting accustomed to the steady pounding on the door--too accustomed. It was almost easy to forget there was a herd of flesh-eaters out there. 

"Anyway, the truck is useless," Nico concluded. "It's too late to restart the freezers, she'll have already--" he stopped, his face paling.

"Hazel'll have what?" Jason prompted him. 

Nico blinked. "Hazel? Oh, yes, Hazel will have already, um . . . thrown everything out." He fumbled his pencil, and it rolled off the side of the table. He didn't retrieve it. "It's more trouble than it's worth to restore power to the building, now. We should probably cut our losses and focus on getting back to the city in one piece before anything else." 

"If that's what you want to do," Jason allowed. He had to fight a sudden urge to pat Nico's hand--the boy looked like he could use a little comfort. Not that Jason wasn't scared out of his wits himself.

"Well, you're the plan guy," Nico said. "What do you think?"

"I'm the plan guy?" Jason questioned. 

"It was your plan that brought us out here," Nico pointed out.

"It was your _problem_ that brought us out here," Jason said. "Besides, I'm not smart enough to be the plan guy."

"Neither am I."

They looked at each other. Jason tried not to smile.  
"We need a plan guy," he said.

"Definitely," Nico agreed. "Someone smart and cunning."

"Or dumb and crazy."

"I think we can handle dumb and crazy," Nico said.  
"Okay. Then what's the dumbest, craziest thing you can think of?" Jason asked.

Nico stared at him for a long moment--long enough that Jason knew whatever came next was going to be good.

"Running over the tops of the cars," Nico said. 

A huge grin split Jason's face. He didn't care that it made his head pound just that much worse. "Running over the tops of the cars," he repeated. "I think we just found our balloon back to Kansas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _so it's official, I can't write an entire chapter without using at least one set of italics._
> 
>  
> 
> _Title from Wham! and seriously if you didn't know that . . ._
> 
>  
> 
> _kidding, kidding. Thanks for reading!!_


	10. One Week

According to Murphy's Law, all principles of Physics, and just plain common sense, there was no way Jason and Nico should have come out of that lineup alive. Even after it was over, Jason couldn't believe he'd done it, let alone find a way to commit the experience to words. He'd thought he'd known the meaning of "running for his life" . . . but that was before.

He processed the little things, like the beads of sweat on the back of Nico's neck, the awkward thump of his makeshift shirt-bag on his back, carrying the extra food from the truck, the buckling of the car roofs under his feet and his acute fear that one wouldn't be able to support his weight. The big things--namely, the hoard of zombies lurching after them, slamming against the cars, shaking the already precarious stepping stones, their arms reaching just far enough over the roofs to be uncomfortable--he couldn't absorb. If he thought about it, he'd never be able to finish it.

So he just ran, eyes flicking between Nico's back and his own feet. His bangs kept falling in his face, distracting him. The cars became more spaced out--he could see the Volvo they'd abandoned, but there was no way he'd be able to back it up and turn it around before the group of mooks caught them. He estimated about fifty of them, but with all the slavering and crunching and swarming, it felt like much more. He'd definitely crash the car trying to overtake all of them. 

Nico hit the ground first, using the trunk of the last car like a stair. He didn't turn to help Jason, which was good because Jason couldn't look at Nico's face right then. Jason couldn't afford to be so human. He couldn't even process how scared shitless he was--the feeling just lurked in the back of his mind, unacknowledged, waiting for him to be safe enough to flip the freak out.

He stumbled on the landing, scrambling to his feet and desperately praying those few seconds wouldn't be his undoing. They were fast enough to outrun the mooks--he knew that--but they didn't have room for error. And they couldn't run forever. 

They sped past the Volvo and down the entrance ramp, dodging around the cars Jason had easily cruised by on the way there. He tried to remember how long it had been between the freeway entrance and the last of the city; a minute or so by car, but on foot? His heart was beating so violently, he couldn't understand why he was still out of breath.

His feet hurt. His high-tops weren't made for running, especially not running on flat tar. His back hurt where his shirt-bag kept pounding on it. He was pretty sure he was only worrying over those little things because he couldn't wrap his head around the thought that this might be how he died without falling apart, and falling apart was no conducive to heavy running.

He nearly cried with relief when the first building appeared; a squat condo in a row of dozens, part of a vacation club, probably. It didn't matter--it was shelter. Nico veered off the road, not slowing his pace for a second; Jason realized he was intending on smashing through one of the ground-floor windows when he saw Nico's elbow raise.

Some part of Jason, understanding what was about to happen, went _Uh, heck no_. He wasn't letting Nico break that window--and it had nothing to do with preserving the aesthetic of the building.

He found a burst of speed he didn't know he had in him and blew past Nico, tucking his head in and angling his bandaged head and mostly-protected shoulder at the glass. He heard the glass shatter; he was falling, the sill clocking his waist even as his momentum sent him tumbling to the floor. Flares of pain shot up from his arm, thigh, and upper lip, but he scrambled to his feet, ignoring his spinning head. His hormones were crashing together, and he felt like Wile E. Coyote after an encounter with an ACME fridge, but there wasn't time to stop. They had to run. 

He turned, intending to help Nico inside, but Nico was already there.

" _Go_ , you stupid reckless idiot!" Nico snapped, reaching out to push him forwards.

They were definitely in a condo. Jason rushed past more ugly furniture and seventies wallpaper than any human being had a right to collect. He went through a hall, past a bedroom with suspicious groaning noises, into another bedroom with a closet and a curtained picture window. 

Nico had the door; he came to an abrupt halt, his actions too slow after their desperate flight, and quietly pushed the door closed, easing the lock shut with a click. 

He motioned for Jason to stand by the window while he checked out the closet. It must have been empty, because he slid the door closed after a few seconds and sat with his back to it. 

Jason glanced out the window. They were still on the side of the building facing the highway, so he could clearly see the pack of zombies. A couple had shuffled off to stand by the broken window, but they appeared to have forgotten they were chasing anything because, rather than crowding around the opening to get inside, they milled around with the same aimlessness they'd had before spotting Nico and Jason. The rest of the hoard was splintering apart, still lurching towards the city but in a more sedentary manner, now that their prey wasn't in sight. 

Careful not to move too quickly or do anything to draw attention to himself, Jason dropped to his knees and crawled over to where Nico was sitting in front of the closet. 

"I think there's one in the other room," Nico whispered, once Jason was close enough. "But there are two doors between us, so we should be okay." He reached out, hesitated, then dropped his hand. "Shit, Jay. You really shouldn't have done that."

"Wh--you mean the window?" Jason cracked a grin, settling down in front of Nico. "I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"You're bleeding like crazy. You have glass everywhere."

"I know."

"We don't have much first aid, either." Nico frowned at him. "Could you try to be careless at more convenient times?"

"I'll do my best." Jason took a quick inventory of his wounds. His clothes had protected him from the smaller shards, but there was a scrape six inches long on his upper arm, and a big chunk still wedged in his thigh. He wasn't sure he wanted to pull it out. 

He took the shirt-bag off his back, glad that they'd packed a couple of spare t-shirts to use as rags. Wrapping one around his hand for protection, he grabbed the glass shard. He started to pull it out, but--

"Arg--" 

Nico lunged forwards, clamping both hands over Jason's mouth. He was so forceful, he shoved Jason against the frame of the bed behind him. The mattress was softer to hit his head against than a truck door, so he didn't complain. 

"Let me do it," Nico hissed, unwinding the shirt from Jason's hand. "Just stay still. I'll do the work."

"Kinky," Jason muttered, and Nico pressed his palm over Jason's lips again, scowling. 

When he yanked out the glass, Jason had to bite back his scream. The pain washed over him like a wave, centered on his thigh, which burned so intensely he thought he wouldn't be able to stand it. Unthinking, he sank his teeth into Nico's palm.

Black spots clouded his vision. He thought it might not be so bad if he passed out, but to his dismay he stayed conscious.

The flare died down, slowly. Nico's fingers dug into Jason's cheek. He didn't remove his hand until Jason gently pushed it away, the pain residing to a throb that was, if not better, then more bearable than before. There were red teethmarks on Nico's flesh.

Jason should have been too worried about his rapidly growing list of injuries, but he still blushed when he noticed the marks. "Sorry."

Nico looked at his hand like he was only just realizing he'd been munched on. "You aren't turning on me, are you?"

"Never." Jason winced. "I'm bleeding now, aren't I?"

"Pretty badly. Don't look." 

He looked. His jeans were torn and bloody, although not as soaked as he would have expected. He supposed the glass had kept things from getting too messy. His flesh, on the other hand--that was a mess. He probably should have listened to Nico. The edges of the wound were jagged; blood gushed from it like this was some horror movie.

Wait. It _was_ a horror movie. Jason's whole life was a horror movie now. He gripped Nico's shoulder. 

"I don't think I can do this," he said.

"Do what?" Nico asked. "All you have to do is sit there, I'm the one doing the nasty stuff. And for both of our sakes, stay quiet this time."

He deftly wound the t-shirt in his hands into a tourniquet, slipping it around Jason's upper leg and tying it tightly. Then he took the remaining shirt out of the bag and wrapped it over Jason's wound, wrinkling his nose as the blood soaked through. 

"This won't hold for long," he muttered. "You definitely can't run. Shit." He glanced up at Jason, his expression more worried than his tone suggested. "You'd better not fudging die on me."

"I'm not going to," Jason said. "Chill out. The bleeding will stop, it doesn't feel that deep."

Nico narrowed his eyes. "Oh, and is that your professional opinion?"

"I'm trying to be optimistic."

"Optimistic gets you killed," Nico snapped, and sat back on his heels. He took a breath, visibly steadying himself. "How's your shoulder?"

Jason checked it. The slice on his upper arm was already starting to clot--he suspected that, right now anyway, trying to doctor it would only make it worse. "Looks okay," he said. "I think we should leave it be."

Nico reached over, wiping something wet from the corner of Jason's lip. His thumb came away red.

"You're going to scar," he said. "You've got a cut there."

Jason held Nico's eyes for a moment.

"Totally worth it," he said.

Nico jumped to his feet. "I'll see if there are any first aid supplies in the bathroom," he said, forgetting to be quiet. Jason thought--maybe, though it was hard to see from this angle--that his ears were crimson. "Try to staunch the bleeding with the bedspread while I'm gone."

Jason pulled on the sheet behind him, yanking it off the bed far enough to reach his leg. His left arm, the injured one, throbbed when he tried to use it too much, so he sat still with his back against the bed, wadded-up sheet pressed on his thigh. 

Without anything to distract him, the pain took center stage. He tried to remember if anything had ever hurt like this--maybe when he'd burned himself on Leo's lighter. But while that had faded after he ran his hand under cold water, his leg just kept on cremating. The feeling was increasing, too--hitting him with greater and greater intensity, until he couldn't bear it, couldn't see how he'd borne it a second ago, was convinced he'd die if he had to bear it a second longer--then subsiding, only to crest again. 

He started counting seconds. He just had to make it through 1-2-3, and then another 1-2-3, and another, and another, and if he kept it up long enough, he'd 1-2-3 and Nico would be there, like Glinda the Good Witch. 1-2-3. 

He wanted to go home. Maybe there was something to that heel-click thing. He should try it. It couldn't hurt.

The next thing he knew, someone was slapping his face. He blinked, absolutely confused. What was going on? Why had his eyes been closed? Where was he?

Nico's face came into focus, and Jason snapped back to reality. The last thing he remembered was comparing Nico to a lady in a pink, poofy dress, a definite sign he was losing blood . . . or his mind.

"I found some antiseptic," Nico said. He was even more roughshod than he'd been before--his hair was chopped short on one side, and there were strange, greenish clawmarks down his chest.

Jason, slumped over, struggled to an upright position. Nico had the sheet firmly pressed against his leg; from the looks of it, Jason had dozed off and stopped compressing the wound. That explained why Nico was glaring at him like he'd just lost their only water supply.

"You--shit, you got bitten--" Jason said, reaching out to touch the scrapes on Nico's chest. Nico flinched and batted his hand away.

"Like I'd be that dumb," he replied. "I just had a run-in with our neighbor. I took care of it. And look." He waved a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in front of Jason's eyes. 

"Good, I can touch up my roots," Jason mumbled, and rested his poor, rejected hand on Nico's thigh.

Nico gave an exasperated sigh. "Do you ever stop--whoa, are you okay?"

Jason's head was lolling again. It just felt so heavy, and he was sleepy still, and Nico--weirdly--smelled really good, under the faint stench of zombie guts, of course.

Nico grabbed his head, trying to get him to sit up. "Jason. Don't make me slap you." More quietly, he added, "Not that I wouldn't enjoy it."

"Slap me if you want," Jason mumbled, and slumped forward. His head felt like a ton of bricks that he could barely balance; it came to rest on something solid and sweaty. Nico's shoulder. Jason was already feeling just this side of boiling, but he couldn't bring himself to move, even if Nico's body felt like a furnace.

He could just sleep here, right?

"Jason," he heard Nico say. But he had to be hallucinating or dreaming or whatever, because Nico sounded alarmed, and that wasn't like Nico at all. Even if Jason had only known him for a week, he knew that much. 

"Jason," Nico repeated, and then he was singing the rainbow song again and Jason was thinking it would really be nice to have a lemon drop right about then.

"Give my regards to Broadway," he mumbled, and passed out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Barenaked Ladies_
> 
> I know this has gotten really weird and I love you for still reading it. xD


	11. Mad World

Jason came around three or four times before it stuck. Each time, he felt like he was dragging himself out of a deep sleep; he distantly thought it was time for him to get up, but his limbs were too heavy and he told himself, maybe, he could sneak in five more minutes. 

He had strange dreams. He saw Piper and Leo, hitchhiking to Seattle. A big rig stopped to pick them up; it was driven by a zombie. And then Jason was Piper, fighting the creature off, his long brown hair getting caught in the door and his scalp roaring with pain--and he came to consciousness, dimly registering that the pain was still there. His head was a single, solid mass of pain.

He went back under, and walked hand in hand with Nico along a beach. For some reason, he was afraid of the ocean--he kept telling Nico not to trust it. Nico gave him that thin, unreadable smile, and dragged him underground. He fell into another dream, and another. 

Whenever he opened his eyes, he could sense Nico nearby, even if he didn't see the boy. Once, he tried to call out, but his jaw was locked shut. When he finally unhinged it, he screamed uncontrollably. Nico was there at once, pressing both hands over Jason's mouth--Jason tried to stop, he really did, but it was impossible.

Nico plugged Jason's nose, cutting off his air entirely. 

Jason hurtled back into his strange, disorienting dream world, not sure if that had actually happened or not. He wouldn't be surprised if he was dead.

And then, finally, he awoke for real. He knew it was for real because, for the first time, he was aware that he'd been unconscious for some time. His body ached. He was hungry. He no longer felt lethargic.

It was night time; the moon shone through the curtains. They were still in the condo. Nico was asleep besides Jason, his hand closed over his gun. There were a few empty cans of food by the nightstand, signs that Jason had been out for a while. Again.

He was starting to think he had a problem with this whole staying-conscious thing. 

He sat up as quietly as possible, throwing aside the blanket over his legs to check out his wounds. Judging by the fact that he could move his leg without screaming in agony, it was doing okay. His shoulder was nearly healed, and when he brought his hand to his lips, he felt the puffy scar tissue already formed over his cut. His head was no longer bandaged, though he was missing a fair chunk of hair on the side that had been slammed. 

The nightstand had been turned into an impressively organized first aid station; rows of Ace bandages, two bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a pair of scissors, boxes of clean tissue and packages of cotton, three different kinds of painkillers and a half-empty bottle of NyQuil.

They'd definitely been here a while.

Jason glanced at Nico again, checking that he was still asleep, and found Nico's dark eyes on him. In the dim light, they were practically black. The sight made Jason's heart ache.

Reading the question in his face, Nico said, "Four days. And nothing from the walkies."

Jason winced. All total, that meant they'd been away from the city--and Nico's family--for an entire week.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You should have--"

"If you say I should have left you--again--I'm going to shave you bald," Nico threatened, and sat up. "You need to quit this self-sacrificing crap and let me jump through a couple damn windows."

"I wouldn't have been able to take care of you," Jason said. "I would have died just getting to the bathroom to get those." He nodded at the medical supplies.

Nico looked like he might argue, but then he sighed. "Whatever. It's done now. Eat something and then go back to sleep--we're leaving once the sun's up. The hoard dispersed yesterday, so we can sneak back out the way we came."

"So fast?" Jason asked, surprised. "I thought they didn't wander off that quickly."

"I might have snuck out a back door and made a racket to draw them away," Nico admitted.

Jason stiffened, alarm shooting through him even though it was well after the fact. "That's so--that was dangerous!"

"I did what I had to do. Be quiet and eat," Nico ordered, and reached for the knapsack at his side. "So much for bringing food back for the others," he said. "We've eaten almost everything since we keep getting delayed."

He offered Jason a power bar and some beef jerky. Jason took it, but not without feeling guilty. The delays were his fault, after all. 

Even in the moonlight, he could tell Nico's expression and posture were tense. He'd basically been alone out here for a week, with only Jason the chronically unconscious for company. He'd had to protect and feed both of them, care for Jason's wounds, and deal with the knowledge that staying with Jason meant abandoning his family.

Jason's stomach twinged, and he set down the jerky.

"You need to eat--" Nico began.

Jason hugged him. 

"What the--"

"Thank you," Jason interrupted, squeezing Nico as tightly as their awkwardly twisted sitting position would allow. "I would have been dead a shitton of times over if it weren't for you."

"Is 'shitton' an official unit of measurement?" Nico asked, wriggling in Jason's grip. "Let go."

Jason rested his chin on Nico's shoulder. He could feel Nico's heart thudding pretty hard, which was flattering. And off-topic. But still flattering. "You aren't going to hug me back?"

"Not in a million years. This is only pleasant for one of us," Nico griped.

"Just let me thank you," Jason said, and released him. "There. Happy?"

Nico glared at him. "Have I ever given you any indication that I would enjoy excessive physical contact?" he asked. 

"It's just a hug," Jason said. "Geez."

"It's a concession of authority," Nico muttered. 

"Your brain is so messed up."

"And yours isn't? Eat. Sun's coming up in a couple hours." Nico lay back down.

Jason tore open the power bar and demolished it. The jerky went soon after, leaving him still hungry. He wasn't about to complain; he got the feeling Nico was one wrong word away from following through with his threat to shave Jason bald.

Which kind of made him think--

"Hey, Nico," he said, poking Nico's shoulder.

"There's no more food," Nico responded. "We need to ration it. I'm officially preparing for the worst case scenario."

"Not that. Can you cut my hair?"

Nico sat up, scowling. "Now?"

"Yeah, now."

"Can't see."

"You can see well enough," Jason prodded. "Besides, I just want it . . . _gone_ , basically."

"You want to go bald?" Nico sighed. 

"I want it out of my eyes," Jason clarified. "I'm used to it being a lot shorter than this."

"And this is of dire importance? Seriously?"

"If you do me, I'll do you," Jason offered, then winced. "That sounded less dirty in my head."

Nico sighed, but he got up and took the scissors off the nightstand, sitting on the side of the bed. He motioned for Jason to come sit in front of him.

Jason opted to crawl the few feet to the bedside; he wasn't sure what his legs were going to do if he tried to stand. That was a tomorrow problem. 

"I'm not a hairstylist," Nico warned.

"I'm not looking to be glamorous," Jason said. 

"Then wrap a bandanna around your head and call it good," Nico said, starting to snip despite his words. 

Jason folded his legs. His thigh twitched, but the pain faded almost at once. He resisted the urge to peel back the bandage and peek at the wound. 

"Stop moving," Nico snapped. His knees pressed Jason's shoulders on either side, stilling him. "I'm at least trying to keep everything even. Geez, your head is shaped weird."  
"Ouch," Jason muttered. 

"Keep still," Nico repeated, more softly. "For one thing, you might be feeling better but you're a long way from being healed. I'd rather not stress you out."  
"Wow," Jason said. "Have you ever said that to someone before? It sounds like something you'd never say."  
"Be honored. You're my first." Nico resumed snipping, and Jason held back his instinctive joke. He might not particularly care what his hair looked like, but he still didn't think it was a good idea to provoke Nico while he was holding a sharp object.

Nico's fingers pressed against his temple, then cheekbone. The scissors were cold against Jason's scalp, and he leaned into Nico's warmth without thinking.   
"Can you not stick your head on my dick?" Nico asked, deadpan dry, and Jason bolted upright. He thought he heard a ghost of a chuckle before Nico said, "Also, you're done. My turn."

He dropped off the bed, kneeling in front of Jason and bowing his head as he handed over the scissors. 

Jason swallowed, unexpectedly nervous. Then he slowly reached out, fingering Nico's bangs. "Do you have a style in mind?" he asked, half joking. "Maybe a photo on your phone you could show me."

"You threw my phone out the car window," Nico reminded him. "Just do me like I did you."   
Jason had to bite back another joke. 

Using his fingers as a ruler, he cropped Nico's hair close to his head--probably too close, but it would grow. By the time he was done, Nico looked like a totally different person.  
Nico ran a hand over his hair. "It's choppy," he observed.

"I did my best," Jason said, scowling at him. 

Nico caught his hand in an unexpected show of affection. "It's fine."

Jason stared at their linked hands, forgetting to breathe for a minute. His throat was clogged. His heart thudded like he was running from mooks again. Nico's skin was burning against his, but the boy made no move to let go. 

Jason wanted to say something, but he was afraid acknowledging the action would lead to Nico pulling his hand away. And that was the last thing in the world Jason wanted.   
He slowly brought his eyes up to Nico's, nerves blossoming like fireworks in his stomach, sending trails of numbing fire through to his fingertips. He thought he might throw up.   
Nico's face was closer than he expected it to be, his expression opening under Jason's gaze. The guarded look Nico almost always had was gone, replaced with a wistful calm that shot Jason's stupid nerves to hell.

"I was terrified you were going to die," Nico said, and sounded like he meant it. "I'm already afraid my family is--that they're gone--" he carefully avoided the word "dead", "--I can't lose you, too."  
Jason was tongue tied. He wanted to reassure Nico, or make a joke, or do something to lessen the tension between them, but he couldn't speak. He was too scared of saying something he'd regret.  
Because Jason--

Jason had to go to Seattle, and Nico wanted to stay in the city, and that reality would inevitably separate them.

A lightning bolt of panic blistered Jason's heart. He didn't want to leave Nico alone in the city, especially if Hazel and the others were gone. That was--well, it was just a fate worse than death, wasn't it? An eternity of loneliness. Jason didn't want that for Nico, he wanted his friend to be happy. 

His friend who made his heart shake in ways he'd never felt, let alone understood. 

Jason leaned closer. He'd remember that, later; that he was the one who leaned first, closing the distance between them. Nico inclined his head obligingly.

Jason wasn't sure what he was doing until he got there, and then it was too late. His lips brushed against Nico's.

The sensation wasn't unfamiliar--he'd kissed Piper before--but with Nico, it sent hurricanes whirling through Jason's body. His head spun like he'd hit it again. His whole body trembled. It had never been like this, before.

He stiffened, springing back, denying the feeling instead of embracing it. Nico was staring at him with wide, expectant eyes--and then whatever he saw in Jason's face make his walls snap back into place. He dropped Jason's hand like a hot coal and scooted away. 

"I--I have a girlfriend," Jason stuttered, knowing it was the exact wrong thing to say. "I--holy crap--"

"Rule one of Zombie Apocalypse," Nico mumbled, "we don't talk about what happens in the Zombie Apocalypse."

"Terrible sense of humor," Jason said, but it wasn't funny anymore. It was just words. 

Nico lay down, his back to Jason. The uneven, shorn back of his head mocked Jason for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this chapter is awkward on many levels and I'm sorry. xP_


	12. Flashlight

They left once the sun rose. Neither of them had slept. 

They traveled quietly; it was hard to break the ice when it was so comfortable to be frozen. Nico hotwired a car. Jason was suitably impressed. 

They didn't see any mooks. Jason's leg failed to collapse or fall off or do any of the things he'd been afraid it would when they started out. Nico held on to their supplies and a deeply suspicious expression; after last night, Jason could hardly blame him.

His thoughts bounced like pinballs between three paddles: first, Seattle. It was always Seattle first, and whether or not his friends had made it there, and whether or not he'd get there himself. Then he rocketed into guilt as he remembered the trio left behind in the city. He might not know Frank, Hazel, and Will intimately well, but they were important to Nico--and after this last week, Nico was important to Jason. Which brought him back to the previous night, and what it meant; not so much in terms of their relationship, but in terms of Jason's impending departure. He wasn't sure he'd be able to leave Nico behind to search for his friends. And that landed him squarely back in Seattle, worrying about Leo and Piper.

After they got the car, it only took about an hour to get back to the office building where Nico's family was camped out. It would have been shorter, but Jason got lost on the way. Nico didn't so much as roll his eyes--that, more than anything, signaled to Jason that things really had changed between them. Even if they didn't talk about last night, it had happened.

Jason didn't know how to deal with it, or even if he should, so he focused on his driving and tried not to feel like he'd cheated on Piper or something. It had all been 'best bros forever' until the kissing started; after that, Jason was lost. 

He pulled the car into a parking garage and they got out. It was funny, going through mundane routines like finding a parking space when he knew perfectly well that no one was going to be inconvenienced if he double-parked or failed to be perfectly within the two white lines of his space. He couldn't figure out if it was habit or just the beginning stages of denial--like he'd seen enough of the ruined world now and had to pretend it was like it used to be. 

Nico zipped up his jacket and slung the knapsack over his shoulder. He didn't seem too eager to get back to the building--if anything, he looked reluctant. He caught Jason's sleeve, his touch flooding Jason with that electric feeling again. 

"If they're dead," he said, speaking for the first time in hours. His voice was hoarse and pained--it broke Jason's heart. "You have to help me. Please."

"To . . . put them down?" Jason swallowed, but he reached for the knife Nico had given him anyway. "I will," he promised quietly. "I'll--I'm here for you, Neeks. Even if I kind of screwed up the delivery."

"You screwed up everything," Nico said, but his mouth twitched and Jason thought that--maybe--he was forgiven for last night. Maybe. "Don't let me fall apart in there."

"I won't."

Nico nodded, and they left it at that. It wasn't really the time for a heart-to-heart; they'd missed that opportunity by a mile. So they soldiered on, crossing the street to the office building where Hazel and the others were camped out. Instead of climbing up to the roof like before, Nico went in through the fire door, glancing back at Jason long enough to press a finger to his lips for silence. As soon as they were in, Jason saw why.

A dozen or so mooks wandered through the first-floor cubicles, half-heartedly groaning. They didn't notice Jason or Nico, creeping along the perimeter. Nico eased open the door to the stairwell, letting Jason duck in first before following and firmly shutting the door behind him. 

Jason leaned close, trying not to react when his nose brushed Nico's skin. "I thought you guys barricaded the first floor," he whispered, barely moving his lips. 

Nico nodded quietly and slipped past Jason, mounting the stairs and gesturing for him to follow. Jason did, no more questions. They climbed to a landing, turned, and ascended to the second floor. The door didn't look blocked off, but when Nico tried the handle, it wouldn't turn. He glanced over his shoulder, double-checking that no mooks had wandered in behind them, and then knocked firmly on the door four times, in some kind of special pattern.

Secret knock. Jason could appreciate that.

There was nothing from the other side. Nico's face darkened. He knocked again--nothing. He waved for Jason to continue up the stairs behind him; they climbed to the third and fourth floors, trying the knock at each one. They never got a reply. 

Nico led them out and up onto the roof, opening a hatch. Directly opposite them was the utility shed that led to the other, unblocked stairwell. Nico crossed to it slowly.

His back looked lonely. Jason was quick to catch up with him, fighting back the urge to hug the slim guy. Even if they weren't on shaky terms, now was not the best time.

Nico opened the door, dug his flashlight out of his bag, and shone it down the stairs. The passage was empty. He started down them without pausing to see if Jason was there; he was focused. Jason couldn't blame him.

He trailed after Nico with his knife raised and no clue if he'd actually be able to use it when the time arose. He couldn't imagine hurting anyone he'd slept in the same room with, eaten with--even if they, technically, weren't themselves anymore. 

Nico threw open the door at the bottom with the air of someone ripping off a band-aid. 

The room beyond was empty. 

Nico spun and pushed past Jason, clattering towards the kitchen level. Since Nico was the one with the light, Jason limped after him. He wasn't quite up for outright running yet. By the time he reached the cafeteria, Nico was already there, standing in the middle of the large space with a heaving chest.

He was staring at the walk-in refrigerator in horror. 

_He's finally lost his mind_ , Jason thought. He edged toward Nico, but the boy blew him off, striding to the fridge and yanking open the huge door. 

A wave of rank air slammed into Jason. He backed up on instinct, eyes watering. "What the--"

Nico peered into the dark space, shining his light around. "She isn't here," he muttered, his voice shrill with naked panic. "She's gone."

At first, Jason thought Nico meant Hazel, which was crazy. Then Nico barked out a cry of alarm, stumbling backwards. 

Someone shuffled out of the freezer. Jason's first thought was that it was someone who'd just woken up; then he wondered why anyone would be sleeping in there. 

Will stepped out, his irises milky and dead, his skin mottled. He lurched toward Nico with no recognition--nothing but a zombie shell. 

"Holy crap," Jason whispered. 

Nico was frozen, eyes glued on Will. The blond boy's wrist and left hand were mostly gone, something Jason tried really hard not to think about in the three seconds he had before Will reached Nico and it was all over.

Nico wasn't moving. 

Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he didn't want to. It didn't matter--he was in danger, and that flipped the same switch in Jason's brain that had him throwing garden hoses over the sides of buildings and smashing through condo windows.

He lunged forwards, injured leg nothing but an after thought, shoving Nico aside as his brain chanted _ear or temple, ear or temple, ear or temple_ \--his fingers curled tighter around the handle of his knife, and he held his breath because Nico had said that would make it easier. He didn't think about what he was doing.

He plunged the knife into Will's temple with the same force he'd once used to spike a football. The knife went so deep, his fist bumped Will's skull. 

The creature went limp, sliding off Jason's knife and to the floor. 

Nico let out a strangled cry, and Jason?

Jason staggered to the sink and threw up. Violently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _from The Front Bottoms.  
>  There's a YouTube playlist I made called Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse in Style if you want to listen to what I was listening to while I wrote this fic. Is that lame? If I were you, reading this, I'd think it's lame :P. Thanks for reading!!!! I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated._


	13. On The Road Again

It took sixty-eight hours to reach Seattle, and Jason knew because he counted each one in agonizing silence. Nico didn't speak. He'd retreated from Jason, from the world. He'd helped to pack the car with supplies from the office and then climbed into the passenger seat to totally shut down.

Jason didn't know how to help him. He'd been in grief counseling before, when his mother died, but he seriously doubted his therapist's advice would help in this situation. She'd been a big fan of talking things out, but rehashing the chain of events that had led to the death of Nico's family sounded like torture. And reassuring Nico that it wasn't his fault was dicey when Jason wasn't sure if that was even true.

He had no idea what had happened, why Will had been like that, where Hazel and Frank were--who the "she" was that Nico had been searching for. That Nico had kept trapped in a refrigerator. How was Jason supposed to address that?

So they drove in silence, and Jason wrestled with what happened in the confines of his own mind. He'd killed Will. Or the thing that used to be Will, anyway. And yeah, he'd promised Nico that was what he would do, but honestly? He hadn't known he had it in him.

Then again, he'd done a lot of things he hadn't realized he was capable of. Most of them in the name of protecting Nico.

He was unnaturally thrilled to see the Welcome to Seattle sign looming out of the woods. He didn't like having so much time alone to think. The trees thinned out, replaced by buildings, and he turned a bend to find the big city stretched out before them, a gleaming, glorious distraction.

His gas light went on for the fifth time. He was able to find a station that ran on generator power the first time, while they were still in California, but once they left the more disaster-prone state, he'd forced to improvise. Plus side--he learned to siphon gas. Minus side--he didn't see any cars around now.

Seattle must have evacuated first. He'd ask Nico for an opinion, but the guy was asleep and it was unlikely he'd break his silent vigil for that anyway. Abandoning the car meant abandoning any supplies they couldn't carry on their back; not the end of the world, but not ideal, either. Jason figured he had another couple of miles before the car straight up refused to run, but should he waste that gas looking for other cars or a gas station? Or should he try to get them as close to their destination as possible?

He tried to estimate how long it was between here and the place Leo and Piper had referenced, but if he was totally honest with himself--he didn't remember. It had been two years ago. He'd been more interested in Piper's short shorts than the Colombia Sky View. 

Indecisive, he kept driving in as straight a line as possible until the gas ran out completely. He slowed to a crawl, then a total stop, right in the middle of an intersection. Jewelry stores rose up on either side of him, all of them looted. 

Nico blinked himself awake, having the grace to look confused when he saw they were stopped. It was the most interest he'd shown in the world for days. 

Jason didn't blame him for checking out, but it was lonely without Nico's constant sarcasm. He wondered if this was how Nico had felt, those days when Jason had been unconscious.

"We ran out of gas," Jason said, stating the obvious. "And we're looking for Columbia Street but I'm honestly not sure where that is."

Nico didn't respond. That wasn't a surprise. 

"So, we're going to have to wander around until we find a map or something," Jason went on. "It's going to be tough, but we need to decide what we can carry from the car and what has to be left behind."

That gained a huge nonreaction from Nico, who rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"If you don't want to, I'll decide by myself," Jason said.

Nico slumped down, closing his eyes like he was going back to sleep.

"Fine," Jason muttered. He'd hoped mentioning their stuff--stuff that used to be Frank, Will, and Hazel's--would spark life into Nico. But no. Not even that could shake Nico's silence.

Jason got out of the car, overly aware of his surroundings. Just because they hadn't seen any mooks didn't mean the creatures weren't around. He opened up the trunk, surveying the host of weapons he'd crammed there with the vague idea of needing them. Now, he couldn't imagine why.

His knife was fine. The gun had disappeared with Hazel, and the crossbow with Frank--Jason assumed, anyway. Both weapons had been gone when he packed the car. He took an extra knife, and left the rest. They were too cumbersome to carry.

Food was easy, since they didn't have much to begin with. He divided the rations between two backpacks, filling half the bag. He left most of the canned goods, though it killed him to think of the waste. They'd be walking; the last thing they needed was that kind of weight.

He kept Piper's iPod, useless as it was without headphones and a charger, and a change of clothes for himself. The medical kit they'd thrown together went in Nico's bag. And then he was left staring at the things Nico had taken from the office, totally lost.

A tank top that read Solace Medical, probably Will's. Okay, they could keep that, but what about the battered copy of Paradise Lost? It was as needed as Nico's huge bomber jacket, which he'd shed with the growing heat--but as cumbersome as the jacket was to carry around now, Nico would miss it in a couple months. Did that make it worth keeping?

Jason didn't know. The choice shouldn't have been his in the first place, not his alone, anyway. The leather diary with Hazel's name on it meant nothing to him, but how could he justify taking it away from Nico?

He tried asking Nico, but even that was too much, apparently. 

Jason kept the diary and Will's shirt, and left the rest. If Nico was going to put the choice in Jason's hands, he'd get what he could get.

Jason dropped Nico's bag in his lap, slinging his own over his shoulder. "I'm leaving now," he said. "You want to stay, be my guest."

Nico stirred, blinking slowly at Jason as if the words were taking a long time to process. Then he shoved the bag off his lap and got out of the car, stretching. Still wordless, he put on the backpack and followed Jason away from the car. Jason kept stealing little glances to make sure his friend was okay.

It was too late to regret now, but maybe they shouldn't have left Los Angeles so suddenly. Maybe Nico needed a mourning period, or to bury Will, or to know for certain that Hazel and Frank died, too. 

But Jason had been making the calls. Jason had done the best he could, and all he could do now was hope that he hadn't broken Nico in some permanent, fundamental way.

He kind of vaguely remembered the jewelry district; Leo had wanted to look around it for some reason; but he didn't know the way to Columbia Street from there. It was a big section of the city, for one thing. He started poking in the stores they passed, looking for a map. Nico trailed behind him like a stray cat, wearing the same disinterested expression that felines had. 

This was idiotic. Jason had made it this far, only to be thwarted by a blip in his memory? He was within miles of his destination--possibly less than an hour away from seeing Piper and Leo--and he couldn't find his damn way. And Nico wasn't talking and Jason missed him, dammit. He could use a little help out here. 

_Help_ wasn't coming. Hadn't Nico told him that, forever ago? Help wasn't coming. They had to save themselves. 

He turned at the corner of Fourth Street, and pulled up short. Nico actually crashed into his back.

Well. This explained why there were no cars--or mooks--around. 

A few yards ahead of them, the street was fenced off, the barbed-wire blockade enforced with cars and a couple trucks. On the other side of the barrier, a whole herd of zombies pressed against the fence, slavering. Jason followed the fence with his eyes, creeping forwards cautiously. It looked like the fence extended into an alley, maybe even encompassed the city center.

What the hell?

"Jason."

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. Nico had spoken. Nico. For the first time in days. Jason would have been ecstatic, but when he turned to express his surprise and delight, the words died on his tongue. Nico hadn't spoken because he wanted to.

He'd spoken because, while Jason had been absorbed with the zombie barrier, a blond girl in a ski mask had snuck up behind them and put a gun to Nico's head. 

"You have five minutes to run," the girl told Jason, voice somewhat muffled by the mask. "And then I put a bullet in your friend's brain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Wille Nelson song._
> 
> _HAPPY BIRTHDAY JASON!!!!_


	14. Fellow Traveler

Jason's first instinct was to rush the girl, but she had Nico. He couldn't let her hurt him, not after all Nico had done. 

His mouth was dry, but he tried to speak clearly anyway. Maybe there was a way to reason with her.

"Look," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm not looking for a fight. Whatever you want, I'll do it. But let my friend go."

"I want you to leave," she snarled. "But your friend dies. Price for trespassing."

"Is that really necessary?" he asked, as nicely as possible when she was threatening the life of the only friend he had out here. "We didn't know--"

"Doesn't matter."

Jason met Nico's eyes. It almost would have been better if Nico looked panicked; rather than that, his expression was resigned. Normally hard to read, it clearly told Jason to run. _Save yourself._

"We can come to a compromise," Jason said. "There's no need to--"

The girl turned the safety off with a click. 

Could he overwhelm her in time? Maybe if Nico started to struggle, but he seemed to have no intention of resisting. 

Damn idiot. He was going to make Jason do something stupid again. 

"Alright," Jason said, lowering his hands. "I'll go."

He had very little confidence in what he was about to do. He'd only seen it in movies before, which was usually a good indication that it wouldn't work in real life. But he slowly backed away, as if to retreat towards the fence. 

The girl relaxed her grip, and Jason charged her. He had to be faster than her brain--faster than her trigger finger--the only wiggle room he had was those few seconds of surprise he'd gained. If he tripped or miscalculated or made the smallest mistake than Nico was--possibly--dead and Jason was up the creek without a paddle and just.

No.

There was a chance that she was bluffing but who knew, these days? It wasn't a risk Jason wanted to take.

He barreled into the girl at umpteen miles an hour, surprising himself with his own speed. He knocked her onto the ground, nearly following suit, and wrestled the gun away from her and then it was over. He was the one with the weapon, pointing it at her, clueless as to what to do next. In the movies, this was the part where the hero delivered a badass threat that had the enemy cowering and scuttling away.

All Jason could think of was that speech from Pulp Fiction and he wasn't saying that. Well, he could say it but he was pretty sure he'd start laughing halfway through and then he wouldn't sound like a righteous man, he'd just sound like a lunatic. 

It's possible that he was, at that point, already a lunatic for considering the problem so carefully.

Nico grabbed his arm and tugged, apparently back to the whole not-talking thing. Jason tore his eyes from the girl to look at Nico, who was wearing the oddest expression. He almost looked heartbroken.

"Man, I don't get you," he complained, and stuffed the gun in his pocket. "Fine. We'll go."

"Wait!" 

Now that she wasn't being dubiously threatened, the girl scrambled to her feet, holding her hands out like she could physically stop them. "That's my only gun."

"Not my problem," Jason said. "You just tried to kill my friend with it. I'm keeping it."

"I need it," she pleaded.

He sighed. "Now you want to play nice? Are you kidding me?"

She yanked off her ski mask, presumably so he could see her unimpressed scowl. "I'm not saying you have to hand it over right now," she said. "But you could chuck it in the Dumpster down that alley while you're busy running away." She pointed towards the street the fence extended into. 

Jason stared at her, nonplussed. She sounded like she was negotiating a lunch trade on the playground.

She stared back, eyebrows raised. Her blond hair fell in curls around her face, and her eyes were a stormy gray. Despite the fact that she was a good head shorter than him, not to mention fifty pounds lighter, Jason got the feeling he didn't want to start anything with this girl. 

She was dressed like a commando: all black, cargo pants, probably weapons hidden in her combat boots. She had a Yankees cap, of all things, stuffed in one of her pockets.

That sole human quirk was what convinced Jason to listen to her. "The Dumpster?" he repeated, making sure he had it right. "It's down there?" He pointed to the alley.

"It's down there," she confirmed.

Nico pulled on Jason's sleeve again.

"Okay," Jason said, to both of them. "Oh--you wouldn't happen to have directions to Columbia Street, would you?"

Nico audibly groaned. As signs of life went, it was a pretty big one, but Jason wasn't in a place to appreciate it. 

"Columbia Street is in the quarantine zone," the girl said, gesturing to the fence. "There's no way in. Even if there was . . . well, look at it. It's a death sentence."

Jason's heart sank. "I was supposed to meet friends there."

"If they were inside, they're dead," she said flatly. "If they came along after the barrier was set up, they've moved on by now." She paused, frowning at Jason. "Hang on."

"What?" he snapped, turning back to her. Nico yanked his arm, then gave up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Jason extended an arm to him, his hand brushing Nico's chest as he silently asked the boy for patience.

"Were you on the New Romans bus?" she asked, shifting her weight to one side and cocking her hip. "Out of LA?"

The name of his group home startled him. It was the last name he expected from the last person he expected it from. 

"How do you know that?" he demanded. 

"What's your name?" she shot back. 

He didn't see how it was relevant, but-- "Jason," he told her. "Jason Grace. What's yours?"

"Annabeth," she muttered. "But that's not the point. Damn--Piper's going to kill me."

Piper.

_Piper._

He all but jumped on the girl. "You know Piper? Where is she--I'm looking for her--I'm her--"

"I know who you are," she groaned. "You're the boyfriend." She ran her fingers through her hair, looking at the sky in despair. "You're supposed to be dead."

Not exactly the welcome he was hoping for.

"Where is she?" he repeated. "How do you know her? Where--"

"Not here," she interrupted. "She left the city a week ago. I told her to. Ugh" Her eyes fell on Nico. "Who's the friend, anyway? No one said anything about a friend."

"Nico," Jason told her, on arm protectively in front of the other boy. "Why'd you threaten him?"

"Can't trust strangers. You're lucky Piper talks about you a lot." Annabeth grimaced. "How are you alive?"

"I'm stubborn. Where did Piper go?" he asked. "Did she--was there anyone with her?"

"California." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "She was alone."

Jason's heart plummeted. Annabeth went on, oblivious.

"I finally convinced her to stop waiting for you. What a mess. Okay." She shook her head, gathering herself. "Okay. Reyna's supposed to arrive tomorrow. You can take the bus. It'll all be fine."

Jason was still stuck on Piper being alone. Leo wasn't with her. Leo--

He couldn't entertain the thought. "Why did she go to California?" He'd just come from there.

"There's a camp in Berkeley," the girl said. "A safe haven. Anyway, we shouldn't chat here--there might be a barrier up, but we're still in the open. I'm camped out by the harbor. We can talk more later."

Jason looked at Nico for a cue. Receiving none, he said, "Okay. Fine."

The mysterious girl held out her hand. "But first, my gun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sea Wolf_


	15. Far Too Young To Die

Annabeth's hideout was a single room in a four-story storage facility; crammed with more survival supplies than Jason had seen in one place. When she pulled the garage door shut behind them, it slammed ominously, leaving them in the dark. 

Jason had a brief stab of doubt about the situation, and then Annabeth flicked on an emergency lantern and flooded the space with blueish light. 

"There's food," she said. "Some weapons. Feel free to leave something behind in return." Her eyes flitted to their packs. "But it's just me, here, so don't worry too much about it."

"Why are you alone?" Jason asked. "I mean . . . why are you here?"

"I'm waiting," she said simply, and squatted down, opening a yellow utility tote full of MREs. "Seriously. You guys hungry?"

Nico squatted next to her and grabbed one, apparently not opposed to helping himself. He tore it open and some sort of rectangular bread fell into his hand. He bit into it and gave Annabeth a tiny smile, which was more than Jason had received in days. 

"You're welcome," Annabeth said, but not like she was annoyed. More like she completely understood what Nico was thinking.

That was irritating.

Jason joined them, feeling like an outsider, and picked an MRE for himself. "How did you meet Piper?" he asked.

Annabeth sat back, folding her legs under her. "She broke into my Jeep--I had a Jeep, back then--and tried to steal some of my supplies. Operative word being 'tried'. Once I realized she was harmless, I agreed to let her stay here." She tore open an MRE. "But it's not too safe, in the cities. She was going to get herself killed, looking for you."

"Why Berkeley?" Jason asked.

"Like I said, there's a camp." Annabeth rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. "It's safe, more or less. Run by some friends of mine."

"You're a little far from home," Jason observed, suspicious. 

"My boyfriend and I were on a supply run," she said. "We wandered into gang territory and they drove us north."

"Gang territory?" Jason echoed. 

"Most of Oregon belongs to the Titans," Annabeth told him. "I'm surprised you didn't come across them."

"Lucky, I guess," Jason mumbled. "I haven't heard anything about gangs." He thought about it. "Then again, we were pretty isolated."

"Yes, you," she said, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Speaking of, it's your turn to talk. Where have you been?"

"Lots of places," he replied, vaguely. "A telephone booth."

"How did you get there?"

"That's my question," he said. "I don't remember. Anyway, lots of stuff's happened and it would take a while to explain."

She raised her eyebrows. "Bus isn't here 'til tomorrow. And that's if Reyna's on time."

"Tell her," Nico said, his voice raspy. He turned the MRE packet over in his hands, crinkling the foil. "I want to hear it, too."

Jason was so startled by the request, he didn't try to dodge it again. He told Annabeth everything he remembered, starting in the phone booth and ending with finding Will in the freezer. There, he paused.

"I was keeping my mother in there," Nico volunteered. Jason didn't understand him at all. Now he was ready to talk? "It was stupid. I know it was stupid. But I couldn't . . . kill her. And then she killed my family."

"We don't know about Hazel and Frank," Jason told him. 

Nico shrugged. 

"Your mom?" Annabeth repeated, sounding shocked. "How did that happen?" She looked to Jason, but he didn't know, so he looked to Nico.

Nico crumpled the MRE package in his fist and didn't say a word. 

In a heartbeat, Jason picked the story back up, summarizing their road trip to Seattle in a few brief sentences. He wasn't going to force Nico to talk if he didn't want to--why change his habits now? When he was done the tale, Annabeth told them more about the camp.

"We--Percy and I--met Reyna just after the airports closed," she reported. "We needed to get to Percy's mother, and Reyna was willing to give us a ride. After, the four of us took refuge in this old summer haunt, and . . ." she shrugged. "Next thing we knew, there were nearly thirty of us. Kids with nowhere to go, adults sick of the fighting. Even some pets." A smile flitted across her face. "Percy loved the horses."

"Percy?" Jason asked, since he seemed to be pretty important to her.

"My boyfriend. He's the one I'm waiting for," she said. "Anyway, there's strength in numbers. The camp's one of the safest places I know, this old building included." She glanced around fondly. "This was our first hideout," she said quietly, and Jason sensed her leaving the space, traveling back in time to those first few weeks. 

"Is it really that dangerous out there?" he asked, pulling her back.

Her gray gaze became serious. "Yes. Don't underestimate the Titans," she said. "They aren't friendly, and they aren't fair. They think they rule the world now--half of them are criminals that escaped in the chaos, and the rest are just . . . scum." She wrinkled her nose. "Lawless scum. You don't want to get on their bad side. They don't know about us yet, or else think we're small fry, but you can't be too careful."

She gave Nico an apologetic look. "On that note, sorry for holding a gun to your head."

He shrugged, unbothered, and leaned back against one of the box stacks. It supported his weight, but when Jason tried to do the same, the pillar teetered and he quickly straightened. 

They chatted about idle things for a while--Annabeth and Jason, anyway. Nico had gone back to playing dumb. Then Annabeth announced she was going to sleep and took her gun and the lantern behind a partition of crates. She didn't offer them any blankets or bedrolls, but after snooping around in the dim light bleeding from behind the crates, Jason found a couple sleeping bags and unrolled them.

"I never said this," Jason said, hopefully low enough that Annabeth couldn't overhear, "but thank you. For coming with me. I don't want to be alone."

Nico crawled into one of the sleeping bags. Jason wasn't expecting a response, but after Nico had pulled the bag all the way up to his head, he replied, "It wasn't for you. I just don't want to be alone, either."

Jason slipped into his own sleeping bag, pillowing his head on his arm. "So, are we talking now?"

The mound of nylon, all Jason could see of Nico besides his badly shaved head, shrugged. 

"I'm sorry," Jason said. 

"For which thing?" Nico asked, a flash of his former, sassy self emerging. "Or just for all the things?"

"I'm doing the best I can," Jason replied, nettled. "You haven't made it easy."

Nico turned over, abruptly, throwing back the sleeping bag from his face. "You came through for me," he said, which wasn't even close to the reaction Jason had expected. "That's all that really matters. You don't have to apologize."

They stared at each other in the semi-darkness, Jason still twisted in that feeling of not being able to help. Nico was in mourning, and all Jason was doing was making dumb comments. He didn't know how to make it right--he didn't know if he _could_ make it right. 

"I'm still sorry," he finally said. "Not because I did something wrong, but because something bad happened to you."

"Bad things happened to you," Nico reminded him. "Bad things have happened to everyone."

"I don't care about everyone. I care about you," Jason replied. He extended his hand towards Nico, bridging the gap between their sleeping bags. It rested halfway between them, cold on the concrete floor. Nico didn't take it.

"You're Piper's boyfriend," he said dully.

"That really matters right now?" Jason asked.

Nico turned away from him, rolling onto his back. "You're the one who made it into something." He--almost--sounded frustrated. It was emotion. It was something. "You brought the word 'girlfriend' into the conversation. And I'll admit, I'm friggin' pathetic right now, but I don't take pity bones."

"I'm not trying to--" Jason gave up, drawing his hand back. "This isn't about my girlfriend," he said. "Piper wasn't with me in that semi truck. Piper didn't run across a line of cars with me, or throw a flashlight at my head, or save me from that telephone booth. That was you. I'm not coming on to you, I'm just trying to reassure you that I'm here. You aren't alone, and I will always-- _always_ \--have your back."

"I miss Will," Nico said, saying the guy's name for the first time. "I miss him so much, I can't feel anything else. Not even for you." He passed a hand over his face. "If I think about it too much, I'll lose my mind."

"I'm here regardless," Jason assured him. "I'm not asking you to feel anything."

"Good. Because I can't." 

Jason unzipped his sleeping bag, raising the top slightly with his arm. The invitation was glaringly obvious; no way he could downplay it if Nico refused; but Nico didn't refuse. Still in his own bag, he wriggled in next to Jason, pressing his back to Jason's chest. 

Jason lowered his arm over Nico's shoulders and clung to him tightly. The position was deeply uncomfortable, especially without pillows, but he didn't care. He'd be happy to hold Nico like that until they died. 

That probably should have clued him in, but Jason wasn't the brightest bulb on the shelf. He still didn't realize just how vital Nico really was to him. All he knew was that he didn't want the other guy to be alone, numb or not. 

"Thank you," Nico said, quietly. "I know you're trying."

Jason pressed his nose to the back of Nico's neck and didn't reply. If Annabeth thought anything of it when she woke them, hours later, she didn't share. That was good. Jason got the feeling it was the only free pass he was going to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Panic! At the Disco_

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is from the R.E.M. song.
> 
> I'm super excited about this and I hope you like it! It isn't too serious but it is a fair few chaps long. I got the idea while I was sleep deprived at work and someone said (no idea the context), "He punched a zombie in the FACE, dude! THE FACE!", and I thought of Jason at once. xD If you know who really did punch a zombie in the face, I'd love to hear about it haha.


End file.
